The Secret
by Cybra
Summary: Something's going on in the Sunset Arms that nobody's talking about. A secret that, if exploited, could lead to disaster. *Completed!*
1. Something Fishy's Going On Around Here.....

The Secret  
By Cybra

A/N: What can I say? Fantasy is one of my favorite genres of fiction! (Angst and mystery tie for that spot. And horror comes in a very close second.) I've been toying with this idea for a while now, so I'll see what I can come up with.

Disclaimer: All canon characters of Hey Arnold! contained in this work of fiction are the property of Craig Barlett and not of the writer Cybra. Any resemblance to actual events or persons – living or dead – or any previous work of fiction in the Hey Arnold! fanfiction universe is purely coincidental. (Man, I always wanted to say that!)

Chapter 1: Something Fishy's Going On Around Here…

Four young boys talked amongst themselves as they approached the Sunset Arms boarding house. It was shaping up to be an ordinary weekday afternoon: boring with a chance of falling asleep due to nothing to do. At the current moment, the quartet of fourth graders was trying to figure out _some_ kind of activity to prevent themselves from sacking out.

"We _could_ go to Gerald Field and have a game," Sid suggested hopefully.

"With just the four of us?" asked Gerald, raising an eyebrow.

Stinky added his own two cents. "That idea really bites."

The fourth member of the group – the boy who _lived_ in the boarding house – asked, "Why don't we watch a movie? I'm sure I can get the boarders to surrender the VCR if I ask nicely enough."

"Do ya have any popcorn?" Stinky asked, licking his lips.

"Yup. We got some just last week. It's the kind with the movie theater butter," Arnold said, nodding.

"Hot dog! I sure love movie popcorn!"

Gerald grinned at his best friend. "I'm game."

"Sounds great! But what're we gonna watch?" Sid inquired.

"Well, why don't you guys figure that out while I make the popcorn?" the blonde boy suggested.

"You don't mind? I mean, it _is_ your house."

"I don't mind. Knock yourselves out."

At this moment, Arnold had reached the front door and grabbed the handle. Almost by instinct, all four boys moved to the left side of the stoop, leaving a clear path on the right side. The blonde opened the door, allowing dogs, cats, and one pig to exit the boarding house. Once the animals had cleared out, they entered the Sunset Arms, Arnold closing the door behind them.

"Hey, Arnold! Can I ask you for a favor?" Ernie asked, smiling broadly. The smile became a little cautious when he noticed the boy had company over.

"Sure, Ernie. What is it?"

"You remember Lola, right?"

The blonde boy smiled. Sure he remembered Lola. She was the top model for various fashion magazines that were aimed towards those women whose dress sizes were going in the XL direction. He had aided Ernie in gaining the lovely and charming woman's affections. "Right."

"Well, she's been having some trouble at work and needs someone to talk to." Ernie lifted both eyebrows and closed his eyes halfway. "I figured you'd be the best person for the job since…you've done so well for all of us here in the boarding house."

Stinky, Sid, and Gerald looked confused by the way the demolition worker was talking while Arnold opened his mouth slightly in a silent "Oh".

It was something that no one living in the boarding house ever discussed with "outsiders" unless those people had proved their trustworthiness. It was a secret that could not be dragged from any of their lips in front of those living outside the Sunset Arms. It had been a personal request of Arnold's grandparents and Arnold himself. No one was to know unless that person was approved by at _least_ Arnold's grandparents. Only Arnold and his grandparents gave permission to reveal the secret.

At the present time, the select few outside the boarding house who knew the secret were adults: Lola, Dino Spumoni, and Mr. Green. The mysterious Mr. Smith had known the secret as well, but he wasn't counted as an "outsider" since he _had_ lived in the boarding house at one time.

"Sure, Ernie. I'd be glad to help!" the grandson of the owners cheerfully said, quickly recovering whatever composure he had lost in that brief second.

"Great! She'd like to see you around six. That okay?"

"Let me check the calendar."

Arnold trotted towards the kitchen, his group of friends – the three kids and the adult – following behind him. He looked up at the calendar. Almost everyone had written something somewhere on the calendar to show his or her own activities. In Arnold's easily recognized scrawl was written on every day of the month "Free."

In an amused tone of voice, Arnold commented, "I think I can squeeze her in." He picked up the pencil lying on the counter for just such purposes, erased the word "free", and scribbled in "Lola – 6:00." Satisfied, he set the pencil back down in its place. "There we go."

Mr. Potts chuckled at the boy's earlier comment. "So glad you could juggle your busy schedule to fill her in."

Grinning widely, Arnold bowed. He gave a small laugh as he said, "Anything for a lovely lady like Lola."

"Hands off, kid. I called her first," Ernie threatened, his grin betraying the lack of malice behind the threat. "Besides, she's older than you."

Giving an impish wink as he straightened himself, Arnold commented, "I think living with only adults most of my life has given me a taste for older women."

"So if I divorced Oskar, all I'd have to do is wait a few years before I could marry someone with more class?" Suzie asked as she walked in, smiling.

"That's practically robbing the cradle, Suzie!" Ernie laughed.

"Maybe." She smiled and leaned over to kiss Arnold's forehead, making him blush. "But like my sister always says, 'If you can't find the right man, raise one.'"

"Now you two are scaring me." Arnold moved a chair over to the counter so he could reach the cabinets above. "I'm just gonna smile and make the popcorn so we can watch a movie, okay?"

"That'll work," Ernie agreed. "What're you guys gonna watch?"

"We dunno," Gerald answered.

"Anythin's better than just sittin' around and doin' nothin'," Stinky stated.

"Well, I just got Monty Python and the Holy Grail. If you're willin' ta share the popcorn, I could share the movie," Mr. Potts offered. He paused for a moment before adding, "That is, if your parents will _let_ you watch that movie. There's some stuff in there that might be a little too…uh…"

"I think 'mature', is the word you're looking for, Ernie," Suzie supplied as she hunted around the kitchen for chocolate sauce to add to her glass of milk.

"Yeah, that's it! There's some stuff in there that might be a little too mature for you guys' parents' taste. You might wanna ask first."

Neither of the boarders mentioned talking to Arnold's grandparents for permission. His grandparents had long ago decided that Arnold could handle seeing some things that weren't for kids in his age group. After all, when things got too intense, Arnold had long ago made it a habit to hastily excuse himself until that portion was over.

In the minds of Stinky and Gerald, the earlier conversation with Ernie that had led them to the kitchen was already forgotten. Sid – who had always been a bit of the suspicious type – filed that conversation away in the back of his mind to think about later.

Meanwhile, Arnold gave himself a "mental sticky note" to remember to meet Lola at six o'clock. It wouldn't do to be late.

~@~

"I'm here to see Lola."

"I'm sorry, kid, but no one is allowed – "

"Arnold! Good! You're on time!" Lola gave the man at the desk a winning smile. "I've been expecting him, Chris. Sorry if I forgot to tell you."

"Oh, it's all right, ma'am. Just be sure to give me the heads-up next time," the man answered, smiling back longingly.

"I will." Lola turned to her visitor. "Let's go to my dressing room."

Arnold followed slightly behind Lola, taking in the sights. He glanced into rooms to see models posing before cameras, giving their most feisty looks and such to the calls of the photographer. As they walked further away from the entrance, shouts of "Okay, give me happy!", "Ooh! That's it!", and other assorted prompts overlapped each other.

"Um, Lola?"

"Yes, Arnold?"

"Don't you feel a little…well…silly listening to what those guys are telling you?"

She gave a small laugh. "Oh, they do that to get us to loosen up! Half the time, they're just teasing the others and me."

"Oh."

The pair approached a door with Lola's name on it. Lola unlocked the door and ushered him inside.

It was a simple room with a vanity and a wardrobe. There was a couch, a cushioned chair and footstool, and a few paintings on the wall, but for the most part, it was pretty much empty. It wasn't quite what Arnold had expected, but he knew from Ernie that Lola preferred more simple furnishings than the average supermodel.

Lola stood by the door and watched as her visitor wandered the room for a moment, getting the feel of it. "So…um…what am I supposed to do? Lock the door? Curtain the windows?"

The blonde boy chuckled. "Kinda suspicious, don't you think? Nah. Nothing's visible. You just talk, and I'll listen. That's all anyone will see if they walk in."

"Oh, okay." She smiled. "I was kinda wondering from the way Ernie kept telling me to tell no one."

"Yeah, I don't want it getting out. People might think that I'm messing with their heads all the time or try to _make_ me mess with someone else's head."

"Do you want me to get you anything? Something to drink?"

"No, I'm fine. I just need a place to sit. This'll work." He sat down on the footstool. He smiled brightly. "Comfy."

Lola sat down on the couch, still nervous. She had never done anything like this before. "Is there any way I'm supposed to act?"

"Nope. Just talk."

The fashion model took a deep breath and began explaining the problem she was having. A co-worker – a male fashion model – would not stop pursuing her and she was just about at her wits' end. She had become a bit jumpy since he was constantly hanging around. She was about ready to sue him for sexual harassment since he kept trying to get too close to her.

Even as she spoke, a foreign calm slowly swept over her. It was almost like a slow-moving wave rolling up onto the shore. This wave followed her every nerve, calming her agitated feelings. Her own mind responded to the calm by creating a picture of a stream flowing through a forest.

Once she finished her story, she felt far better than she'd felt in weeks.

Arnold pondered her situation for a moment. "I think you better invite Ernie to visit you for the next couple of days while you work. It should give this guy a hint. Especially if Ernie sets him straight, but try to stop him before he hits this guy, okay?"

Lola smiled. "Of course. It sounds like a good idea." She smiled a little more broadly. "Maybe I can get the photographers to take some pictures of Ernie and me."

"That'd be nice. I'm sure he'd love it," the boy said, smiling back.

"Thank you, Arnold. You've been really helpful."

"My pleasure." He rose from his seat while stretching and caught a glimpse at the clock. He'd been sitting still for almost an hour. "Looks like I better be going home."

"I'm sorry to keep you so long."

"That's okay."

Lola walked with him to the entrance of the building. "Is there anything you want?"

"Huh?"

"As payment."

"Oh. No, I'm fine. Thanks anyway. Goodbye, Lola!"

"Goodbye, Arnold."

~@~

Sid watched as a large model waved his friend goodbye. Arnold walked down the street, whistling a tune and unaware of his fellow fourth grader's presence. As soon as Arnold had passed, Sid slipped out of his hiding spot and followed after the blonde.

The blonde reached the boarding house and held open the door to let the animals inside before entering as well, shutting the door behind himself.

Sid didn't want to go inside anyway. Instead, he ran around to the back door and listened as Arnold shouted, "Grandma! Grandpa! I'm home!"

"Hey there, Short Man! Back from the land of the rich and famous, I see." The hiding boy could practically see Phil giving his grandson a toothy smile. "I saved you some supper."

"Thanks, Grandpa. What is it?"

"Oh, it's your grandma's stuffed bell peppers."

Sid's face turned a shade of green. He remembered the eating contest far too well. Luckily, he hadn't been one of those _eating_ the bell peppers. According to Stinky, you practically had to have a cast-iron stomach in order to eat them. He also remembered Helga demanding if the peppers were stuffed with socks (which Phil had responded with "That was a secret!").

"Sounds great, Grandpa." Sid violently shook his head against that sentence, but Arnold obviously couldn't see it. "I'll just have to warm it up."

Beep-beep-beep-beep. Whir… The sound of a microwave being used reached Sid's listening ears.

"How'd it go, Short Man?"

"It went pretty smoothly, Grandpa."

"What was wrong with Miss Lola?"

"Grandpa, I don't think she'd like me discussing it without her permission."

"Okay…Did ya have any fun playin' with people's heads?"

"Grandpa!"

"Oh, all right. All right." A small cackle of laughter. "Just teasin' ya, Short Man! I know you wouldn't – "

Sudden silence.

Footsteps approached the backdoor, and Sid froze in panic. What would he do?! If Arnold or somebody caught him, what would they _say?!_

The door suddenly opened, causing Sid to shout and leap away from the door.

His blonde friend stood there, puzzled look on his face. "Um…Sid? Are you okay?"

"Huh? Yeah! Fine! Just dandy!" The boy with the long nose laughed nervously. "Well, gotta go!"

The eavesdropper tore out of Arnold's backyard at a speed that the blonde thought broke a world record.

Shrugging, Arnold walked back inside, wondering just how much Sid had heard.


	2. Field Trip

The Secret  
By Cybra

****

A/N: You tolerate me! You really tolerate me! :::grin::: Just kidding! Thanks for the reviews! I'd like to answer one reviewer personally.

****

JESS **-** No, Arnold's not the son of a god (though that'd be really kickin' if he was!). It wasn't anything you guessed at all, but thanks for the speculation! I like reading what's going on in my readers' heads! Also, Arnold's secret is something that can be _either_ really good or really bad, depending upon how it's used. I think you might like what I came up with though.

****

Disclaimer: Me? Own Hey Arnold!? hysterical laughter I wish! The show isn't mine, but this idea is!

Chapter 2: Field Trip

__

'Easy, stomach…' Arnold thought to himself, feeling a bit queasy. _'I _**begged**_ Grandpa not to make his weird bacon with extra grease this morning! How could he forget?!'_

The bus hit another pothole, jostling all its occupants. The war with his stomach began anew.

"You okay, man? You're lookin' a little green," his best friend noted…from across the aisle.

"Grandpa made his special bacon this morning for breakfast…" came the miserable reply.

"Well, if you're gonna throw up, do us all a favor and throw up out the window. Or, if ya miss, throw up on Helga."

"Brilliant idea," the ordinarily optimistic boy grumbled. "Do you think she'll wait to beat me up _after_ we get off the bus or just pound me right after I puke?"

"Sorry, man."

A part of his mind that seemed obsessed with trying to lead him astray (a mind devil, if you will) gave Arnold a little idea. Quickly, he rejected the _extremely_ tempting idea. It was unethical, unfair, and it was the very reason he didn't want his secret getting out.

Another jostle. He had to firm up his resolve as another wave of nausea hit him.

"A nature scavenger hunt. Probably the best idea the cream puff's had yet!" Helga exclaimed, looking over the list of clues.

Phoebe glanced over her shoulder, then turned completely around. "Are you okay, Arnold?"

"I've felt better," he admitted, drawing Helga's attention.

Though internally wincing, the blonde girl turned around and mocked, "So, you're not feelin' well, Football Head? Too bad…Looks like my group's gonna win since you'll be slowin' your group down."

Arnold shot her an irritated glare that lost most of its power when the bus jostled to one side again. He hastily swallowed and closed his eyes.

"Stomach?" Phoebe asked sympathetically, subtly kicking Helga in the shin. There was only so much mocking she could hear from her best friend, and mocking _anyone_ while they weren't feeling well was one thing she couldn't stand.

He nodded and opened his eyes, silently pleading with her for any tips she might know.

The girl in the blue sweater held out her arm. "Take your index finger and press in the soft spot that's close to the underside of your elbow. There's a nerve there that'll settle your stomach."

Gratefully, Arnold followed her instructions, pressing for a few minutes. When he stopped, he felt much better. "Thanks, Phoebe."

"No problem."

Helga lightly poked her best friend. "Oh, great! Now his group stands a chance of actually _winning!_ This was a golden opportunity, Pheebs! Without Arnold, his group wouldn't stand a chance!"

"Hey!" Gerald indignantly shouted.

Phoebe and Helga both laughed and turned back around the right way in their seats. Arnold chuckled and shook his head, partly because of the way Helga had been teasing her best friend and partly because of the way his own best friend had reacted to Helga's statement.

"Man! Can you believe that?!" Gerald growled, glaring holes in the back of Helga's head.

"Don't let her get to you, Gerald. I don't."

"Yeah, well…She just makes me had sometimes!"

The blonde girl and her best friend merely exchanged amused, knowing grins.

~@~

"Now, class, remember: No matter how many objects you still need, when it's three o'clock, return to the bus _immediately._ We don't want anyone getting lost," Mr. Simmons instructed, grinning as widely as his students. "And _if_ you get lost or someone in your group gets hurt, I've taken special precautions."

With a dramatic flourish, the teacher yanked a cloth off of the mysterious box he'd been carrying the whole time. Inside lay several walkie-talkies. The children ooh'd and ah'd approvingly. Mr. Simmons must've been planning this field trip for a long time.

"Each group will have one walkie-talkie. You'll all check in every thirty minutes so we're sure that nobody is having problems. Even if a friend of yours is in a different group than yours, do _not_ use the walkie-talkie for socializing. We don't want the frequency being jammed with someone's conversation if there's really a problem. Besides, everyone would be able to hear what you're saying. Okay, kids?"

Loud cheering erupted from Mr. Simmons' class, showing their enthusiasm and approval. The walkie-talkies were quickly handed out to the different team captains: Harold, Arnold, Helga, and Sheena.

"All right!" Mr. Simmons shouted, holding up an air horn. "When I blow this air horn, everybody gets started. On your mark…"

The students in their teams tensed.

"Get set…"

The group captains signaled which way they wanted their teams to go.

The sudden bleat of the air horn interrupted the tranquil silence of Eagle Peak Park. Kids raced into the woods, captains shouting to be heard over the din.

Mr. Simmons smiled broadly as he watched his students disappear, turning on his own walkie-talkie. He had given each team what they needed: the clues list, a map of the area, a small first-aid kit (just in case), a bag for the items they collected, and the walkie-talkies to call for assistance.

In the meantime, there was nothing for him to do but sit back and catch up on grading homework during those long pauses between check-in times.

~@~

"'When I grow up, I want to be a tree'?" Gerald read, confused. "What the heck is _that_ supposed ta mean?"

"A seed!" Stinky shouted, pleased that he knew the answer to this one. "We gotta look for a tree seed of some kind!"

Arnold grinned. Stinky was a farmer, so of course he'd know the answer. "Okay, so we need to find a seed." He bent down, searching the forest floor for something. "Aha!" He held up an acorn.

"One clue down, nineteen to go!" Sid stated, placing the acorn in their bag. "This is gonna be a cinch!"

"Um, Sid? Did you look at these clues?" the boy wearing the jersey asked, motioning to the paper he held.

The boy with the green cap read over the clues and gulped. "Okay…so maybe it won't be a _cinch…"_

The team captain checked his pocket watch. "Mr. Simmons should be calling us right about…now."

"Kids!" a friendly voice called over the walkie-talkie. "Time to check in! I'll call out the names of each of your team captains, and you all give me an idea of how you're doing!" A brief pause. "Harold?"

"Aw, your clues are really hard! Can't you give us a hint?"

"Sorry, Harold. That's not fair to anyone. Besides, it's figuring _out_ the clues that makes a scavenger hunt so much fun!"

"Aw!"

"Shut up, Pink Boy!" Helga's charming voice shouted over the radio. "Mr. Simmons, I'm checking in for my team. We've already got the first clue done."

"Good job, Helga, Phoebe, Rhonda, and Nadine!" Another pause. "Sheena? How's your team doing?"

"We're doing just fine, Mr. Simmons. We can't figure out the answer to clue number one yet, but we _did_ get clue number two!"

"Wonderful! Arnold, how're you four doing?"

Arnold pushed the button on the side of the walkie-talkie that activated the microphone.

~@~

On Helga's end, she could hear Arnold shushing the laughter of his teammates who were somewhere in the background. They must've been laughing at the way Harold was whining. She grinned at that.

"We have the first clue figured out, Mr. Simmons. We're working on the second clue," Arnold's disembodied voice reported.

"Excellent! Well, I won't delay you all any longer! Next check-in is in thirty minutes!"

That said, the frequency became silent.

"Well, Phoebe, what's clue number two?" the girl with the pink boy asked.

"It's very strange, Helga," she noted. Before anyone said anything, she read, "'I fly and soar high in the sky, but I'm just part of the one with wings.'"

"Wow. That first clue was really easy compared to this one," Nadine stated. "What can fly that has to be connected to something with wings?"

"I don't really care," Rhonda stated, picking a leaf out of her hair. "I just can't _wait_ until this whole scavenger hunt is over."

"Sheena's team figured it out, so why can't we?" Helga asked, using great willpower in ignoring Rhonda.

Phoebe tapped her foot, re-reading the clue silently to herself. The answer was right on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't figure it out.

A sudden screech from overhead drew her group's attention upward. A hawk circled and landed on a branch overhead.

Suddenly, the most intelligent girl in the fourth grade shouted, "Of _course!_ A feather! It can fly because it's on a bird!"

"Nice work, Phoebe!" Nadine congratulated. "Now all we need to do is get a feather off our friend up there."

"Looks like it," Helga agreed. "Good one, Pheebs."

Phoebe blushed modestly at the praise before she became serious. "But how do we _get_ the feather?"

No one in the group had an answer for that one.

~@~

"You're almost there, Arnold!" Sid called from below him.

The boy with the odd-shaped head gulped and looked up at the bird's nest above him. If there was _any_ place there would be a loose feather, it had to be in the middle of a bird's nest.

He looked back down at the ground and instantly regretted doing so. Gulping again, he looked back up and gripped the tree limb above him.

"'Don't worry, you guys. _I'll_ go. It shouldn't be _too_ hard,'" Arnold muttered mockingly to himself. "Sometimes I _really_ wish I could stop myself from opening my big mouth."

Needless to say, Arnold was _not_ enjoying his climb in the tree. One false step, and it would be a very long fall to the ground. Just in case, he'd given Gerald the walkie-talkie.

As he began taking his weight off of the limb he stood on, he heard a _crack_ from that lower branch.

__

'If I fall, God, save my little broken body…' Arnold silently prayed.

He pushed off of that lower branch and swung himself up onto the branch his hands were gripping just as the branch his feet had been on snapped free of the tree. His teammates scrambled to avoid falling foliage.

Arnold froze in place for a moment, realizing how close he'd been to falling to great injury. He slowly inhaled and exhaled, trying to regain his earlier courage that had suddenly fled from his body.

Stinky shouted up to him, "You okay, Arnold?!"

"I'm fine!" he lied. "No sweat!" After a moment of silence, he muttered to himself as he reached for the next branch, "Who am I kidding? I'm scared to death!"

Apparently, his friends didn't realize that he had fibbed since they said nothing except to shout encouragement. He continued the long climb and reached the bird's nest.

Looking at the cheeping babies inside, he soon realized that he'd stumbled upon a bird of prey's nest. It was probably a hawk or eagle's nest.

He searched quickly for a feather, praying for whatever luck had gotten him this far to last a little longer. If Mommy Hawk or Mommy Eagle came back, Mommy was going to be _very_ angry at her uninvited visitor.

A rusty red feather caught his eye. It was just within reach…

A sudden screech from his left alerted him that Mommy was coming home. Mentally cursing the Fates, Arnold snatched the feather, ignoring the way the hatchlings bit at his flesh. He tucked the feather into his shirt.

"Gotta go."

He hurriedly began to climb down, almost falling once or twice in his haste before he was low enough to jump down without breaking a leg.

"Did ya get it, Arnold?" Stinky asked.

"Right here!" Arnold triumphantly held out the feather.

"I knew he could do it!" Gerald shouted, slapping his friend on the back amiably.

Stinky grinned and held out his hand to Sid. "That means you better pay up, Sid."

"Aw…" Sid gave his taller friend a bag of jellybeans. "Take them."

"Much obliged."

The blonde boy stared. "You guys were _betting_ on whether or not I could get the feather?"

"Sure were."

On the outside, the boy who had risked serious injury to grab a feather was calm. On the inside, he was entertaining thoughts of Mommy Hawk swooping down and pecking their eyes out.

As Arnold was inwardly fuming, Gerald read the next clue, "'I am worn until I'm smooth and normally wet.' Easy. A rock from a river."

"Or that creek we passed earlier!" Sid shouted.

"Not so loud! We don't want anyone else overhearing!"

The four boys quickly trooped to the creek and searched for a nice smooth stone.

"It's actually purdy nice out here," the country boy stated. "It's peaceful and – Woah!"

The other three jerked their heads in their friend's direction just in time to see him tumble from sight. They immediately rushed over to their friend.

"Stinky!" Sid shouted.

"Oh, man!" Gerald added.

The blonde winced as Sid stared then stated, "That's gotta hurt."

"How bad is it?" Stinky asked, gritting his teeth.

His right ankle had started to swell to twice its normal size. It obviously had been twisted in the fall.

"Let's just say that you're not gonna be able to walk on it." Arnold snatched the walkie-talkie from a stunned Gerald and pressed the transmitter button. "Mr. Simmons, Stinky's taken a bad fall. It looks like he's sprained his ankle."

"Oh dear. Wrap up his ankle and help him get back here. I'll be waiting with some aspirin for the pain and some cream to put on it. That should help."

"Right, Mr. Simmons." Arnold released the button.

Stinky looked up pathetically at his three friends. "This really bites."


	3. A Tough Decision

The Secret

By Cybra

A/N: Hey! I still have someone with me! Good for you! And again, I would like to answer your review…

JESS – whistle Another fine set of guesses. However, once again, you're a bit off. Arnold isn't the son of a witch or hiding a darker half. (At least, not in this fic. However, you _did_ give me an idea for possibly another!) The "mind devil" thing is sort of like an anti-conscience. You know, the _evil_ Jimminy Cricket. I have a feeling that just about _everyone_ has that little voice in their head that urges them to do something they shouldn't do. (I know I do!) It's basically your shoulder devil (like Kronk has in The Emperor's New Groove) only it's in your head. Does that clear things up? Also, as to why _Helga_ wouldn't know, remember in Chapter 1 what Arnold said to Lola? Nothing was visible. She could watch him the entire time and never see a thing.

Disclaimer: Me Cybra, not Craig Barlett. Him own Hey Arnold!, not me. Unga bunga.

Chapter 3: A Tough Decision

Stinky gave another cry of pain as the agony shot up his leg. He was leaning heavily now on Sid and Arnold. His ankle was still swollen, looking extremely painful to his three friends.

"Don't worry, Stinky. We'll get you to Mr. Simmons, and he'll do something about it," Arnold reassured him.

"I can't walk another step, Arnold! It hurts!" the country boy complained, giving a yelp of pain as he put too much weight on his throbbing ankle.

"We better give that ankle a rest, you guys," Arnold reasoned. "We'll go a little farther in a minute or two."

Carefully, the blonde and the boy with the green hat lowered their friend into a sitting position. Stinky was more than grateful to be sitting on the ground once more.

"What'll we do?!" Sid asked, starting to become panicky.

"What we _need_ is a pain killer!" reasoned Gerald.

"But Mr. Simmons wasn't allowed to give us any pain killers!"

"Well…maybe we can ask Phoebe if she knows anything. We'll use the walkie-talkie!"

"What if she doesn't _know_ anything that can help?!"

"Sid, you're _not_ helping!"

During this argument, the team's captain studied the ankle, chewing his lower lip. It was a bad habit of his that only came out when he was really worried. Needless to say, he was really worried now. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. His dilemma made it hard to come to a decision.

There was something that _he_ could do, and he knew it. He could ease the pain in Stinky's ankle just enough for the taller boy to walk on it (with the aid of Sid, Gerald, or himself) in order to reach Mr. Simmons. Arnold had done something similar a few times before in the past for the boarders.

However, that was the problem. He hadn't done it very much and didn't know if he could pull it off for long enough. He'd done this sort of thing for a brief minute or two before help would arrive. It would take at _least_ five minutes to reach Mr. Simmons. He didn't know if he could do it that long.

And _if_ he performed the procedure he was thinking of, would they discover his secret? It could very much give him away. He didn't want them to know, didn't want the nightmares he'd had in the past to become real…

~@~

"You lied to us the whole time, didn't you?!" Gerald demanded.

"You were just using us! Playing with us!" Sid accused.

"Did you **really** think you could get away with this, Football Head?!" Helga spat.

All around him, friends pointed and accused him of playing with their minds, taking advantage of what he had that they didn't.

A solitary tear ran down Arnold's cheek. "I didn't…I wouldn't…"

"Arnold!"

~@~

Arnold snapped to attention at the call of his name, looking at his best friend. "Huh?"

"I _said,_ what the heck do we _do?!"_

Decision time. Whatever he did now would make the difference.

Taking a deep breath and clearing his mind of other thoughts, he kneeled down next to Stinky. His deep green eyes locked their gaze on Stinky's brown ones. "Stinky, I can do…something…to make the pain ease up a bit, but I need your permission. Do you trust me?"

"Sure, Arnold. I trust you," Stinky affirmed, wincing as he accidentally moved his ankle a little too much.

"Okay. Just hold still."

Arnold reached down and gently grasped the wounded ankle, his fingers spreading to different points. He flexed his fingers a little, giving the illusion of applying pressure. It wasn't really necessary, but it made a good show. If there was only one thing Arnold was, he was a good actor.

He didn't look at anything except the ankle. He slowly inhaled and started to work.

The country boy blinked in surprise as a trickle of numbness seemed to slip into his sore ankle. It traveled along the nerves to the point where it hurt the most. After a small tingly feeling that felt like his foot was falling asleep, the pain began to wash away as if it were going down a drain. At the same time, more of that numb feeling flowed into his ankle. It was almost like turning on a faucet that let the bad stuff drain out while the water cleaned it out.

Helga and her group crashed through the bush into view.

Rhonda took one look at Stinky's ankle and gagged. "Ugh! That's revolting!"

"Shut up, Princess!" snapped Helga.

Another stab of pain struck Stinky's ankle, but it was washed down the "drain" before his mind could fully register it.

"Okay, Stinky. Let's try to get you back to Mr. Simmons," Arnold ordered.

Phoebe narrowed her eyes.

Was there a slight _strain_ in Arnold's voice?

"Okay, Stinky, I'll walk you there," Helga offered, pulling him up and onto her shoulder.

"Wow, Helga! That's right nice of ya!" the country boy said, smiling.

The strange numbness that had taken over his ankle held the pain at bay as he walked, leaning on Helga's shoulder.

"Yeah, well, these shrimps wouldn't be able to support you the right way anyway! Besides, I'm feeling generous today since you're hurt. Don't get used to it."

"Okie dokie, Helga."

Arnold walked at the back of the small caravan of children. He didn't want to talk to anyone right now. If he lost focus, Stinky would begin to feel the pain in his ankle again.

He shuddered slightly as another stab of pain reached him that made his head suddenly throb, causing him to rub his right temple with his hand. Fortunately, nobody _seemed_ to notice.

~@~

Arnold was starting to sweat slightly as they reached the bus and the waiting Mr. Simmons. Fortunately for him, it was fairly warm out and people were sweating anyway. However, he wasn't sweating because of the heat but because of the strain he felt.

Just when he thought that another second might kill him, Mr. Simmons gave Stinky something to swallow to ease the pain. Stinky sat down one of the few picnic tables, leg stretched out so the teacher could go to work on his student's injury.

"You'll be all right, Stinky," Mr. Simmons assured his student.

"Thanks, Mr. Simmons."

"You're welcome."

Arnold sat down at a picnic table a little ways from the group. He held his throbbing head in his hands, tempted to put his head between his knees at the same time. He released his concentration from the task he had had to perform. It was a good thing too. Another few seconds, and the blessed numbness on Stinky's ankle would vanish suddenly without anything else to ease the pain.

"Are you okay, man?" Gerald asked, walking over to his best friend.

"I'm okay. I guess Grandpa's bacon's messing with me again." Arnold used the trick Phoebe taught him again to ease his nauseated stomach. He wished it cured a headache.

For a brief moment, everyone in the general area felt a sudden alien ache in their heads as if they had all contracted a headache at once. Just as suddenly as that small pain had arrived, it vanished without a trace.

"Weird…" Sid muttered.

~@~

"How're you doing, Stinky?" Mr. Simmons asked two hours later on the bus.

"I'm doin' okay. Thanks!" the boy answered, smiling.

"Good, good."

Sid leaned forward to talk to his friend. "So, what'd Arnold do?"

"I dunno. It was pretty weird. It was like my ankle went numb. Maybe he used some kinda pressure points or somethin'." The country boy's eyes went wide as he realized something. "Shoot! I plumb forgot to thank him! Hey, Arnold! Thanks for the…"

Stinky's voice trailed off as he saw Arnold leaning against the window of the bus a few rows back, eyes closed and asleep. The blonde winced in his sleep, his hand occasionally reaching up to rub one or the other of his temples. It was as if Arnold had a bad headache and was trying to cure it by going to sleep.

"I guess I'll just thank ya later."

Helga silently fretted over her beloved, wanting to help him but not wanting to because then she'd reveal her darkest secret. No _way_ was she going to let the morons in her class gain knowledge of her love for Arnold.

She glanced from side to side, noting that everyone around her was too busy talking to pay attention to her.

"Oh, Arnold, my love," she whispered. "You who cares for those sick and hurt. You who watches over everyone else. If only I could let go of my own foolish pride and sit by your side, nursing whatever ails you at this moment." She sighed. "But alas, I cannot. For if our fellow classmates gained the knowledge of my feelings for you…" Here she growled. "…I'd have to rip them limb from limb, and, unfortunately, murder is illegal." Once more she sighed, pulling out her locket. "Oh, my darling, may you be well once more…"

Wheeze. Wheeze.

Helga frowned, knowing that familiar wheeze. She balled up her fist. _'Here we go again…'_

Whack!

Brainy fell back into his seat. Nobody seemed to notice.

~@~

Arnold's grandpa knew something was wrong the moment he saw his grandson's face. He frowned and walked towards the young blonde.

"You okay, Short Man?"

"I don't feel so good, Grandpa."

"Gosh. What's wrong, Arnold?" Eugene asked.

Arnold turned apologetically to his friends. "Major headache. I'll see you guys tomorrow."

"See ya."

"Bye, Arnold."

The old man and his grandson climbed into the green Packard, Arnold leaning back into his seat and closing his eyes.

Phil glanced worriedly at him. "What happened, Short Man?"

"Stinky twisted his ankle at one point. It was hurting him so badly, and we needed to get him to Mr. Simmons, but it was a really long walk. It hurt him to walk on it, so I decided to help out a little." Arnold winced as his head continued to throb.

Phil didn't need to know exactly _how_ Arnold helped out. Instinctively, he knew. He cleared his throat. "Do they _know_ what you did?"

"I don't think so. I was pretty vague when I said I would do _something_ to help him."

At the same time, Phoebe asked Gerald, "What exactly was Arnold doing to Stinky's ankle?"

"I dunno. It looked like he was using pressure points or something."

Helga listened, interested in anything her secret love did. After all, there was some strange secret about her beloved that she knew the inhabitants of the Sunset Arms boarding house were keeping under wraps. Whatever it was, she had yet to discover it.

"You're sure it was pressure points?" the Japanese girl asked.

"Well…that's what it looked like."

Sid quickly walked up to them, revealing that he had been eavesdropping. "Why, Phoebe? What's going on?"

"I just find it difficult to believe that Arnold was using pressure points to make Stinky's ankle go numb."

"Why's that?" Helga asked, truly interested.

Phoebe's dark eyes briefly locked eyes with her three companions. "I know where the different pressure points are and can use them. And I know for a fact that Arnold's fingers were nowhere _near_ the correct places to use those same pressure points."


	4. Break Ins, Migraines, and Discoveries

The Secret

By Cybra

**A/N:  Hey!  I picked up a few more readers!  Who knew?  Anyway, thanks for reading!  Heh.  It's like Hugo said in The Hunchback of Notre Dame.  When it comes to hooking readers, give 'em some slack, then reel 'em in!  Then give 'em some slack, then reel 'em in!  There're two reviewers that I want to reply to, though.**

**Houkanno Yuuhou ****- You are _so close!  And yet, so __far!  evil laughter  You're so close that I just had to reply!  I couldn't help it!  Nice guess!_**

**JESS – You're even closer than Houkanno Yuuhou, but you're not quite hitting it!  Good guess!**

**Disclaimer:  You see me?  The writer at the computer screen?  Well, I'm not Joseph Purdy or any of the other writers of Hey Arnold!.  Nor am I Craig Barlett.  You figure it out.  Oh, and the cat Rita is the same Rita from "A Little Kindness Goes a Long Way", so she's mine…in a way.**

Chapter 4: Break Ins, Migraines, and Discoveries 

"Those files have gotta be here _somewhere!" a masked man hissed to his partner._

The two of them were rampaging through the files of one Dr. Jay Pollock, a psychiatrist who had been killed in a hit and run accident about five years before.  These files were in the care of Dr. Bliss, the same child psychiatrist to Helga Pataki and the former assistant of Dr. Pollock.

Breaking into Hillwood Medical Center was fairly dangerous with all the alarms.  It would be a matter of minutes before the police would show up.  The two crooks _had to be gone by then._

"That's all of 'em!" the first man's partner hissed back.

"That _can't be all of them!"_

"It is!  There ain't no more files!  Wherever Doc Pollock hid those stupid things, they're gone now!"

Sirens in the distance.  It was time for the two to leave empty-handed.

"The boss ain't gonna like this…" the first man moaned.

"He'll thinka somethin'.  He always does."

The pair of masked men ran down the hallway to the window with the fire escape.  Climbing quickly down it, they broke into a run once they reached the alley.

Even as the police were pulling up to the medical center, the two criminals vanished into the night.

The lingering scent of lavender was the second sensation that met him as Arnold awoke.  The first was his alarm clock calling to him, "Hey, Arnold!  Hey, Arnold!  Hey, Arnold!"

The headache from the day before was still there but it wasn't as strong as before so he thought that it would go away during the day.  He rubbed his eyes and opened them at last.  To be honest, he really didn't _want to go to school that day, but the class was picking topics for their history papers, and Arnold didn't want someone to take __his choice._

A gray and white cat that had been resting on the pillow beside him watched him as he went through his morning routine.  She waited as he went downstairs to take a shower and then came back upstairs to pull on his school clothes.  She continued to watch as he readjusted his hat in the mirror (he was making sure it sat just the way he liked it).

The blonde turned to the cat.  "Well, Rita, do I at least _look human?"_

It was an old joke.  He'd once gone downstairs in such disarray that his grandfather had commented that he wasn't sure if Arnold was actually a human.

Rita meowed her approval, hopping off the bed and rubbing against his legs.  She purred loudly, making him smile.

"I don't care what the Folgers commercial says.  The best part of waking up is having a cat purr at you.  Especially one as pretty as you," he commented, kneeling down and scratching underneath her chin.

She purred even more loudly, her ears – her left one having two bite marks – flicking back and forth with pleasure.  She opened her eyes for a brief minute to see him rubbing a temple with his other hand.  She stopped purring and mewed worriedly.

"I'll be okay.  Let's go get some breakfast."

~@~

_'All right…So maybe "okay" was a bit of a stretch…' Arnold thought as he sat down at lunch._

His head was pounding more than ever.  He thought his skull would split right down the middle from the hammering inside it.  As he looked at his lunch, he suddenly was revolted by the very _idea of eating._

"Anyone want it?" he asked, pushing his lunch away from himself.

"Ooh!  Ooh!  Ooh!  Me!  Me!  Me!" Harold shouted, reaching for it.

Gerald smacked the other boy's hand away before turning to his best friend.  "Man, Arnold, are you feelin' okay?"

"Just not hungry, Gerald.  I'm all right."

_'Liar,' the voice in his head that sounded annoyingly like his grandfather told him._

"Are you sure?  You've been acting funny all day."

Even as Arnold nodded, his right hand involuntarily reached up and rubbed his right temple.

Gerald gave his best friend a sympathetic look.  "Still have a headache, huh?"

"Yeah…"

"Hey, Arnold!" Stinky's voice called, making Arnold flinch at the sound.

Stinky was on crutches for a few days so Sid was carrying both his own lunch and Stinky's lunch.  The two joined Harold, Arnold, and Gerald at the table.

"I just wanted to thank you fer yesterday.  I don't know whatcha did, but the doctor said that my ankle started healing itself a lot faster once the pain was gone.  So, thanks."

"No problem, Stinky," Arnold answered, rubbing his temple a little more.

"Speaking of yesterday…" Sid began, leaning forward eagerly. "What _did you do to Stinky's ankle yesterday, hmm?"_

"Sid, lay off," ordered Gerald. "Can't you see he's not feelin' good?"

"But what was he _doing to Stinky's ankle?!  I mean, Phoebe said that it wasn't pressure points!"_

Arnold's head throbbed even more.  The faint ghosts of emotion he'd felt earlier became more solid as Sid's suspicion hammered away at him.  Already, the blonde could tell a full-blown migraine was on the way.

"Does it _matter?!  I mean, he helped Stinky, that's all that really matters!" Gerald snapped._

"Yeah, Sid!  You don't have to be so darn suspicious!" Stinky agreed, glaring at his shorter friend.

"Aren't _you guys the least bit suspicious?!  I mean, what if it was somethin' dangerous?!" Sid angrily shouted back._

"Stop it…" the blonde moaned, rubbing his temple even more.

"I doubt that Arnold would do something _dangerous to one of us!" Gerald yelled, drawing even __more attention to the fight._

"Stop it…" Arnold begged a little louder.

"Yeah, Sid!  What – What Gerald said!" Harold joined in.

**"STOP IT!  RIGHT NOW!"**

Silence reigned over the lunchroom as they all stared at the boy who had shouted.  Arnold was almost sweating under their scrutiny, his eyes closed tightly and both hands rubbing his aching temples.  His own voice had maximized the pain.

Migraine City.

Arnold's shout had been completely un-Arnold-like.  He ordinarily tried to calm down combatants in a fight rather than scream at them.  Immediately, the argument ended.

Arnold opened his eyes to look at his friends apologetically.  "Sorry…"

"Arnold…" Phoebe began quietly, making him turn around to look at her. "Would you like to go to the nurse's office?"

Her concern was the straw that broke the camel's back.

She watched in horror as Arnold's green eyes rolled back into his head and he went limp, collapsing out of his seat and onto the floor.

~@~

"They didn't take anything," Dr. Bliss told the police officers questioning her. "All they did was go through Dr. Pollock's files apparently.  It's almost like they were looking for something."

"Thank you, Dr. Bliss.  We'll see what we can do from here."

"You're welcome, gentlemen."

The officers left Dr. Bliss alone to re-organize her mentor's files.  She sighed.

"Well, I was aiming to get this done _sometime," she noted as she reached for the wooden box the files had been contained in._

Something struck her as odd as she placed the files back in their places, something she hadn't really noticed before.  It was almost as if the files were up on some sort of cushion or something since they stuck out at the top a few inches.

"Interesting…"

She walked over to her desk and pulled out a ruler that she had her patients use for making crafts while she talked to them.  She measured the outside of the box first, then the inside.

The height of the outside was _much larger than the height of the inside._

"That's impossible…" she murmured.

Forgetting about organizing, she examined the box more closely, turning it over in her hands.  Part of the design almost looked like if you pressed just right, it would slide out the other side.  She pushed against it, and it slid a little inward while the same pattern on the other side slid outward a little.

"A false bottom?" the child psychologist wondered.

Fortunately for her, she had already cancelled all her appointments for the day in order to clean up the mess so she didn't have to worry about keeping any appointments.  She pushed against the design until it slid all the way into the box.  On the other side, a piece of wood was sliding out of the other hole.

Encouraged, she continued pushing, occasionally pulling on the other side.  Slowly, centimeter by centimeter, she was seeing more and more of a compartment under the piece of wood.

"Almost…got it…"

After what seemed like an eternity, the false bottom had been completely removed, revealing…

"Another set of files?  Whose are these?"

Glancing at a corner of the top file, she saw the little doodle that signified that it was Dr. Pollock's work.  There was no name on the file itself.

She opened the file and began to read, her eyes growing wide as she read the details of a study Dr. Pollock had never told his former assistant or anyone else for that matter.

"Oh, my word."

Below the main file with all the basic information were the files of his three subjects.  The files obviously hadn't been updated in five years, but she hadn't expected her mentor's subjects to be _that young._

Each opening sheet of paper held each child's first name, age, physical characteristics, and the strange "Level" status that Dr. Pollock explained in his opening file.  Also included was a picture of that child.

It was becoming more obvious now.

Dr. Pollock had hidden these files in order to protect these children.

The first two of the three subjects she didn't recognize.  The third one she knew immediately.

"It can't be…"

~@~

"Oh…" Arnold moaned as he came to awareness again.

He opened his green eyes and snapped them shut immediately, looking away from the unforgiving light and covering his now light-sensitive eyes with his hands.  He moaned again.

"It's good to see you're finally awake!  We were getting worried!" chirped the friendly voice of the school nurse.

"Please…" he whispered, her voice causing the pounding to hurt even more.

"Oh.  Sorry," she whispered.

He heard her footsteps as she walked to the light switch and heard the _click of the switch being flicked.  Less light filled the room._

"Sheena, dear," Sheena's aunt quietly called. "Could you please pull the drapes on the window?"

"Sure."

Blessed darkness filled the room, and Arnold slowly opened his eyes once more.

"You scared us, Arnold," Sheena whispered, walking over beside him. "What happened?"

"Migraine…"

"Your grandfather is coming to pick you up, dear," Sheena's aunt told him.

"How long…?"

"Were you out?  A good fifteen minutes."

_'What took them so long to get me to the nurse's office?' the blonde wondered._

"People were panicking when you passed out.  Nobody knew what to do.  Helga finally got everybody to quiet down and had Sid and Gerald sorta half-carry, half-drag you here," Sheena told him, unknowingly answering his unspoken question.

"Remind me to thank her," Arnold requested. "Looks like I owe her one."  He paused.  "I owe you one, too, for taking care of me."

"I think we're only just starting to break even since you've done so much for us," Sheena modestly replied.

Arnold didn't have an answer to that and closed his eyes again.

"Take this," the nurse ordered. "It'll help make you feel better."

He swallowed the pill that she placed into his mouth and washed it down with the drink of water she gave him.

"I'm going to give you a pair of disposable sunglasses for when you go outside with your grandfather to his car.  That way the sun won't hurt your eyes as much."  The voice of Sheena's aunt turned stern.  "I know how seriously you take responsibility, Arnold, but next time you're not feeling well, tell your grandparents that you need to stay home.  I don't want to see you in here again like this."

Sheena was surprised by the way Arnold meekly nodded.  She supposed he was in no mood to argue.

"Sheena, you may go back to class now."

Arnold's classmate gave one more worried look in his direction, exited the nurse's office, and walked down the hall.

~@~

"How's Arnold doing?" Gerald asked Phil.

Mr. Simmons' entire class – even Mr. Simmons himself – stopped by the boarding house to check up on their classmate after school.  Sheena's report on his condition had made them remorseful for the panicking they had done before and made the boys arguing at the table at the time even more remorseful for not paying attention.

"He's in Mr. Pott's room right now, sleeping off the migraine.  It's darker in Ernie's room than in his own room.  He should be fine by the day after tomorrow if not tomorrow."

Helga was amazed by how calm Phil was.  Arnold was their pride and joy, their treasure.

In reality, Phil was barely holding in his own worried feelings, just like the rest of the boarding house.  He should've been more firm in telling his grandson to stay home, but Arnold had been extremely convincing in telling him that he would be fine.

Still, regret wouldn't help.  He needed to stay calm for his grandson.  Right now was _not the time to get emotional.  It would hurt Arnold more._

"Can we see him?" Sid asked.

"I'm afraid not.  It wouldn't be a good idea."

"Please?  Please?" the students begged.

Mr. Simmons interrupted their pleading.  "Now, everyone, if Arnold's grandpa doesn't think it's a good idea, then it's probably not a good idea."  He turned to Phil.  "Could you tell him to get well soon for all of us?"

"I could do that."

"Thank you."  With that, the teacher herded his students away from the Sunset Arms.

~@~

A few hours later, Arnold walked slowly into the hallway on the second floor.  Mr. Hyunh poked his head out of his room.

"Arnold, are you feeling any better?" the Vietnamese man inquired.

"A little, but I could really use a few Advil right now."

_Bring!  Bring!_

The boy and the adult stared at the telephone that dared interrupt the rare bit of peace and quiet.  Before Mr. Hyunh could grab it, Arnold answered.

"Hello?"

"Hello.  This is Dr. Bliss.  May I speak to Arnold?"

Arnold glanced at Mr. Hyunh.  "Speaking.  How can I help you, Dr. Bliss?"

"I just recently found some files from my mentor, Dr. Pollock…"

Arnold's blood suddenly froze.

"…and I recognized you in one of the files."

He gripped the phone cord tightly.

"I just wanted to ask if I could ask you a few questions about it in my office on…say…Friday afternoon after school?"

She knew.  She _had to know._

"I think I can do that…"

"Good.  I'll see you then.  Goodbye!"

"Goodbye…"

_Click!  She hung up her end of the connection._

Arnold stood there, listening to the dial tone.

"Arnold?" Mr. Hyunh asked worriedly, fearing that Arnold might faint from the pale color he had just turned.

He slowly rested the phone back in its cradle, not speaking for a moment.  Then, he turned to Mr. Hyunh, green eyes wide with fear.

"She knows."


	5. Meetings

The Secret

By Cybra

A/N: Bwahahahahaha! I have finally found the perfect plot device! From what I can tell from the reviews, I'm _totally_ driving you people nuts! And, no, I haven't seen any of those movies mentioned (or read Clover) so that's not where I got the idea or anything. :::shrugs::: Anyway, you guys are getting _very_ close, but I won't say who's closest this time! ^^ Also, I recently learned that "boardinghouse" _is,_ in fact, _one_ word so from now on, that's how it's gonna be. ^^;;; Just thought you'd care.

Extra Notes: I have had migraines before, so I really know how hard it is to get over one and what one feels like. (Trust me, it lays you out _flat!_) Also, for the purposes of this story, Dr. Bliss' first name is "Christine" in honor of Nurse Christine Chapel of the USS _Enterprise_ of Star Trek fame. If Dr. Bliss has a real first name, I don't realize it and claim ignorance. That is all.

Disclaimer: clears throat Hey Arnold! is not mine. Also, all events and people in this story are fictional. Any relation to events or people in this universe or any other universe (even those with planets ruled by apes) is purely coincidental. ^^ Can we say "Dino Checks Out" reference? ;)

Chapter 5: Meetings

"I didn't hire you clowns to fail," the man seated in the chair hissed.

The two thieves who had tried to steal from Hillwood Medical Center gulped. Their employer was obviously less than pleased.

"I'll give you two one more chance. Follow around Dr. Bliss. She _has_ to know where those files are."

"Yes, sir."

"And this time, don't fail me."

The two thieves left, leaving their employer – a man with a weird-shaped head – behind.

~@~

Thursday was a blur to Arnold. He spent most of it sleeping off the aftereffects of his migraine in his own room. He barely awoke except to eat his meals when his grandparents and the boarders insisted.

Friday came all too soon. The whole day he was nervous. The hours dragged on, time seeming to slow. That afternoon he was supposed to meet with Dr. Bliss about something he had a great deal of trouble discussing with others.

The time of the appointment snuck up on him, and he stood outside her office, trying to gain the guts to enter.

"She's a nice lady," he assured himself. "It'll be okay."

Arnold slowly grasped the doorknob and entered the child psychologist's office.

"Hello, Arnold!" Dr. Bliss greeted him. "Please, sit down."

"Hi, Dr. Bliss."

Arnold set himself down on the edge of the couch, giving a wary look towards the psychologist. He'd never been to a shrink before and didn't really want to be there in the first place.

"Our session will be about an hour and a half long, Arnold, so make yourself comfortable."

"I'm fine."

The psychologist and her patient stared at each other for five whole minutes, each sizing the other one up.

At last, Dr. Bliss told him, "Arnold, I know it must be difficult talking about – "

"You didn't tell anyone, did you?"

She was taken aback by the sudden question. "Excuse me?"

"You didn't tell anyone, did you?" he repeated, green eyes seeming to bore into her very soul.

"No, I didn't. Arnold, maybe you don't realize this, but everything we say here will be kept in confidence."

"Dr. Bliss, I understand that perfectly," Arnold smoothly replied. "But this goes beyond just keeping something in confidence. You can tell absolutely _no one._ You can't even tell the story by filling in another name for mine or for any of the other subjects of Dr. Pollock's work. You can't even write it in your _journal…_if you have one, of course." He gave her a hard look as he nodded his head towards the folders on her desk. "There's a very good reason that Dr. Pollock kept those files hidden."

"All right! No one will know!" The woman lifted an eyebrow at her patient. "Care to share the reason?"

"Imagine what someone could do with just the right amount of…persuasion over someone else. If they could manipulate whomever they wanted so easily that no one would ever know that they were being manipulated. If someone could manipulate someone's very _mind_ in order to make that person do whatever they wished." Arnold nodded again to the folders resting on Dr. Bliss' desk. "Surely, you read that in Dr. Pollock's basic report and also his theory about one of the most evil dictators in history."

"You mean Hitler."

"Right."

Dr. Bliss whistled. "And _that's_ what you're afraid of?"

"That's half of it."

"What's the other half?"

The boy fidgeted uncomfortably. "It's my friends…"

"Your…friends…?"

"I know human nature very well, Dr. Bliss. I'd go as far as to say I know it too well." He swung his legs back and forth. "I know how my friends would react. Fear at first and then anger. They'd think I used them somehow. It wouldn't matter how much I've helped them." The boy stared at the ceiling. "It's the way it's always happened with humans when they're faced with something they don't understand. Fear and then anger…and then hatred."

"That's very astute for a fourth grader. But do you really believe that your friends would really do that?"

"Yes, I do. I wish I didn't, but I do. That time they thought that I'd stolen a whole bag of money proves it. They wouldn't listen to me and ended up tying me to the tetherball pole. Thank goodness the person who had accidentally taken the money showed up just in time."

She could practically sense how unnerving this subject was for him. "How many people know besides me?"

"Not many people. My grandparents, obviously. Then there're the boarders, Mr. Smith (even though I still think of him as a boarder half the time), Mr. Green, Lola, and Dino. Now you."

"Dino? As in Dino Spumoni?"

"The one and only."

"Interesting." Mentally, Dr. Bliss filed it away to be added to his profile folder later. "Do you know the other two subjects?"

"No. If I've ever met them, I wouldn't know it. Dr. Pollock spaced our appointments out so we would never see each other and didn't even tell each of us the others' first names. I have no idea who the other two are, and I aim to keep it that way. If one of us gets found out, it's no good to have all three of us caught."

"I see. Can you tell me a little bit more about all of this?"

Arnold twiddled his thumbs. "I don't see why not, but don't spread it around."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

He met her gaze once more. "It's not gonna be easy. I don't tell people very often."

"Take your time. We still have…" She checked her watch. "…an hour and fifteen minutes left in the session."

"Okay, it all started back when I was two…"

~@~

There was a rare two-hour break between appointments. Dr. Bliss decided to grab a late lunch, still musing over the strange story Arnold had told her in the back of her head.

"I'll be back in an hour, Mavis," she told the receptionist in the lobby.

"All right. See you in an hour, Christine."

As Dr. Bliss was leaving, two gentlemen who had been watching her since their boss ordered them to since yesterday climbed up the fire escape. If breaking and entering had been hard at night, it was harder in daylight. The two men wore masks to protect their identities, but their odd-shaped heads would help give them away. People with such shaped heads weren't very numerous.

They slipped into Dr. Bliss' office and walked straight to her desk. She had left the folders in the back of one of the drawers where she had thought they'd be safe for the time being.

Immediately, one of the crooks opened the drawer and reached for the folders. "Let's just grab them and go."

"Not a good idea. She'll warn the patients if she finds these folders missing." He pulled out a Polaroid camera. "I have a better idea."

Quickly taking snapshots of the photos inside the subject folders along with making note of the subjects' first names, ages at the time the original pictures had been taken, and what "Level" they each were, the second thief led the way out of the office and back down the hallway. The two criminals climbed down the fire escape with the pictures they had taken and left.

"What're you doing back, Christine?" the receptionist Mavis Johnson asked.

"I get to the car and realize it: no keys. I must've left them in my office."

Dr. Bliss walked into her office, unaware of the deed that had been done. As far as she knew, whoever the criminals that had tried to steal from Dr. Pollock's files were would never look in her desk. She opened the drawer to her desk that also held the files and grabbed her keys, slid the drawer shut, and left her office.

"Let's try this again, shall we?" the receptionist teased.

The child psychologist laughed and repeated her earlier words. "I'll be back in an hour, Mavis."

"All right. See you in an hour, Christine."

~@~

"Very good…Very, _very_ good."

The two thieves stood before their boss, watching as he looked over the Polaroids. Their employer looked over each picture.

"Well done. Perhaps you _aren't_ a pair of idiots after all." The man flashed his two employees a charming smile.

"We do our best, sir."

"Good." The man restudied the pictures, criticizing the three young children. He tapped one of them. "This one shows promise. He's a Level 5 the file said?"

"Yes, sir."

"And he's just like us." The odd-headed man smiled then frowned. "No last names in _any_ of the files?"

"None. Doc wasn't stupid, sir."

"So I see. No addresses, I presume?"

"None, sir."

The man studied the picture he had chosen. "How old would you guess the boy in this picture would be now?"

"Nine. Maybe ten."

The thieves' employer rose to his feet and walked idly across the room. "I want you to keep an eye on Dr. Bliss and stay on the lookout for a nine year-old who looks anything like that picture. He might come in to see her someday."

"Uh…sir?"

"What?" he snapped.

"A kid about nine years old that looked like that picture _did_ come in to see Dr. Bliss."

The man stared. "What…?"

"He stayed for an hour and a half talking to her."

"Interesting…"

"We didn't know that was one of the specific patients at the time, sir," the other thief told his employer.

The man turned to face his men once more. "Keep an eye on Dr. Bliss. If that kid comes back, tail him. I want to know who he is, where he lives, and how we can get to him."

"Yes, sir."

"Dismissed."

The two thieves were quick to obey, not wanting to risk their employer's anger by delaying for too long.

Their employer stood silently in his office, once more looking at the smiling face in the picture.

At the time the picture had been taken, the boy was four years old (according to the file). Blonde hair in an unusual style grew on the boy's odd-shaped head with a little blue hat about in the middle of his head. Two green eyes held the same smile the boy's face had.

Written hastily on the bottom of the Polaroid were these words:

"Arnold. Age 4 @ time of pic. Level 5."

"I can't wait to meet you, kid," the man whispered to the picture, smiling. "You and I have quite a bit to talk bout."


	6. Sessions, Prejudices, and Near Kidnappin...

The Secret  
By Cybra

****

A/N: And my reign of _suspense_ continues! BWAHAHAHAHA! I'm too evil for myself! Too evil for myself! So evil, yeah! I'd like to answer a few reviews if you don't mind…

****

JESS: Nice guesses about the guy who hired the thieves, but no, they are in no way related to Arnold's mom. I have this twisted little idea that people with football-shaped heads are a minority based upon the fact that there are helmets and junk out there that seem to fit Arnold's uniquely-shaped head. Don't worry. In the end, it'll all make sense.

****

jc: :::pulls back foot::: Kissing my feet? As much as I like the ego stroking, trust me. You do _not_ want to kiss my smelly feet and sandals. This girl doesn't _wear_ shoes, she _abuses_ them. ^^

****

Disclaimer: Hey Arnold! is not mine. Football Head belongs to this guy. :::holds up picture of Craig Barlett::: He is currently wanted by me. I will capture him somehow! And Monopoly is also not mine. Parker Brothers owns this addictive game!

Chapter 6: Sessions, Prejudices, and Near Kidnappings

A week had passed since that first session with Dr. Bliss, and another session would be taking place in a few brief moments. Arnold still wasn't particularly looking forward to the session since he still felt nervous around the psychiatrist, but he knew she meant well. He simply wasn't used to _him_ being the one sharing _his_ problems with someone else.

"Arnold, come on in," Dr. Bliss told her young football-headed patient.

The blonde walked into Dr. Bliss' office and sat down on the edge of the couch like before. His posture held a slight slouch but was mainly alert and attentive. Without saying a word, he refused to lie back and simply relax.

"How have things been going, Arnold?"

"Fine."

The child psychologist waited for more details, but none were given. She sighed. And she had thought _Helga_ was difficult! "Arnold, I know you're still uncomfortable around me, but you _need_ to open up. If we're going to continue where Dr. Pollock left off or if we're even going to sort out any of _your_ problems (if you so choose), I need your total cooperation."

"I understand that, Dr. Bliss, but it's not just you."

He swung his legs back and forth, looking at the floor and refusing to meet her gaze. The child psychologist waited. In the relatively brief time she had spent with him the previous Friday, she had figured out a few of his mannerisms. From her observations, he only looked like that when he was about to say something extremely difficult for him to talk about or when he was actually _ashamed_ to talk about something.

"Nobody -- except my family and sometimes Gerald -- has ever really asked about my problems. I'm not really used to it."

"I see. So, you just keep your problems to yourself unless your grandparents or your best friend asks?"

"Or the boarders," he added, nodding in affirmation.

"That's not very healthy, Arnold."

"I know."

"So why do you do it?"

"What else am I _supposed_ to do?"

"Talk to someone every once in a while about your problems. It'll help."

"Easier said than done, Dr. Bliss," he stated, standing up and beginning to pace the room restlessly.

"Oh? Why?"

He turned to face her fully, his eyes scrutinizing her. "Because I'm the problem-solver. I'm the one who fixes things when nobody knows what to do. I'm the one _they_ go to for help. For the most part, everybody expects that I have _my_ life in perfect order. I've tried telling people that it wasn't true, but they wouldn't listen."

Dr. Bliss stared. "You have _that much_ responsibility?"

"Yes, Dr. Bliss. I do."

The psychiatrist hadn't expected that. She had heard stories from Helga, but hearing that admission straight from the person in question's mouth put a whole new perspective on things. "And you're fine with the way things are?"

"Most of the time, I'm okay with it. It's those other few times that I just want to grab one of them, shake them, and tell them that I have problems too and just leave me alone!"

His cheeks burned as he flushed red. _That_ hadn't been what he originally wanted to say. Especially not when saying it in a gradual crescendo. Where was that control he was so well known for?

He bowed his head in shame. "I'm sorry, Dr. Bliss. I just…"

"It's all right, Arnold. Everyone feels like they want to do something similar to that to someone else at some point. Believe it or not, you're still human." She winked at him, making him laugh. "Now, did you go home and do what I asked you to?"

He sat back down, a bit more slouched now, a bit more relaxed. That gave the child psychologist _some_ hope. He nodded his head, smiling. "Yeah. I practiced just like you said."

"And…?"

"A few headaches at first, but it's starting to get easier."

"Sounds good." She scribbled something down in the _other_ file she had on him, the one that was a secret. "Now, what happened those first few times…?"

~@~

"I _love_ staying over at your house!" Sid enthusiastically told his blonde friend.

Arnold smiled widely. Sid had been so suspicious those past two weeks that the blonde was afraid that he wouldn't accept his invitation.

The guys (Sid, Gerald, Stinky, and Harold) were spending the night over at Arnold's house just for fun. They would probably stay up late telling scary stories to each other. Arnold decided to leave most of the storytelling to the others, remembering what happened with his tale of the Headless Cabbie.

"Oh, Short Man! I forgot to ask earlier. Could you run down to Mr. Green's and get us a pound of veal?"

"Sure!" He turned to his friends. "I'll be back."

"We'll go with you," Gerald suggested. "Being left alone in _this_ house is almost as scary as being alone in the Haunted Caves of Wheezin' Ed."

The others nodded their affirmation, making Arnold cover his mouth with his hand in an attempt to suppress a snicker.

The walk down to Green's Meats was uneventful.

When Arnold walked up to the counter to wait for service was when it happened.

A man in his late teens walked up to the counter, stopped, and snarled, "Get out."

The children froze, but soon realized that the man was talking directly to Arnold alone.

"Excuse me?" Arnold asked.

"You heard me. We don't want your business here."

"I was under the impression that Mr. Green was the owner of this butcher shop and has been so for quite some time," Arnold calmly replied. "Perhaps I was mistaken?"

"What's goin' on out here?" the owner of Green's Meats asked as he walked in from the back. He saw the look on the younger man's face and asked, "What's wrong?"

"I tried telling him that his business wasn't good here, but he won't leave."

Mr. Green followed the other man's gaze to see the familiar blonde boy standing there. "Jason, that's Arnold. He and his grandparents are some of my best customers." Then his eyes narrowed as he turned back to his temporary employee. "What's the problem, _nephew?"_

"He's the problem, Uncle Martin. I refuse to serve an _Odd."_

"Odd" was the common term used to group a tiny minority of people together. These people had those strange, football-shaped heads like Arnold's cousins, Arnold's mother, and Arnold himself. When it was used, it was mainly just a name for a minority, like "African American" or "Hispanic". The way Mr. Green's nephew Jason used it was as if it was a curse word.

None of the children present had ever seen a display of prejudice so blatant as this. They had been fortunate enough to be protected from this sort of thing up until now.

Arnold said quietly, "Mr. Green, if my presence is causing a disturbance, I can leave and go somewhere else."

"No, Arnold, you're not causing the disturbance." He glared pointedly at his nephew before he turned with a friendly gaze towards Arnold, ignoring the protests of his nephew. "What can I get you?"

"A pound of veal, please."

His voice was still extremely soft and quiet. This was a signal that though calm on the outside, Arnold was a raging volcano inside. He was positively _livid_ at the idea of discrimination against _anyone._

"I'll give you two pounds, and my _nephew_ will pay for it himself."

"I will not!"

****

"You will as an apology!" Mr. Green roared.

Mere moments later, Arnold turned to walk out of the butcher shop carrying the two pounds of veal, his stunned friends walking beside him. As an afterthought, he turned to face the nephew of a trusted friend.

"Mr. Green, may I speak candidly to your…charming…nephew?" he asked without looking at the older man.

"Go ahead."

His tone grew far more soft, his green eyes as hypnotic as a cobra's. "The Civil Rights movement is _over,_ Jason Green. Like the African Americans and women, we won our rights fair and square. Get over it."

Turning on a heel, he walked out of the butcher shop, his friends hurrying to follow him.

Sid's eyes were wide as he asked, "What was _that_ all about?!"

"Forget it," Arnold half-suggested/half-ordered.

~@~

"Fate seems to be playing right into our hands today," the man with the odd-shaped head stated, chuckling. "I haven't had a set-up this perfect ever."

"So he'll be joining us, Dad?" a nine year-old girl with an odd-shaped head beside him asked.

"Soon he will, honey." He turned to one of his men. "You know what to do."

"Yes, sir!"

~@~

****

"ARGH!"

Sid watched in horror as Stinky bought up Yellowstone, giving the country boy a monopoly on the most expensive part of the board. "That's it. It's all downhill from here."

"Not just yet, it isn't," Arnold commented, smiling as Stinky (who had rolled doubles) rolled and landed on Mesa Verde…which currently had a hotel (in this version, it was called a "ranger station") on it.

Arnold's father had had an extensive collection of Monopoly boards, including boards in Hebrew and German. Arnold had added more boards to the collection over the past few years, becoming caught up in his father's own mad hunt for Monopoly boards.

At the moment, the group of boys was playing Monopoly: National Parks Edition. Arnold had been knocked out of the game earlier (his mind, for obvious reasons, hadn't been on the game). Gerald had bought up much of Arnold's property and now owned the entire strip of property from the "Go" space to the "In Jail/Just Visiting" space. It was a long line of ranger stations.

"That would be…" Gerald checked. "…five hundred and fifty dollars, Stinky!"

"Now we know why you were so gosh darn interested in Arnold's property," the country boy commented, handing over the appropriate amount.

"I learned from my past mistakes against Arnold," the one Helga called "Tall Hair Boy" answered, grinning. "He had that whole strip plus the strip next to it."

"Let's see…" Arnold began, leaning his head back as he sat in his computer chair. "I won by two hundred thirty-eight thousand, four hundred and sixty one dollars…to zero."

"Rub it in, why don't you?" Gerald grumbled.

"Wow!" Harold shouted, impressed. "You must be the king of Monopoly!"

"Yeah, that was kind of overkill, don't you think?" Sid asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nah. I just get a lot of practice. We all get together every Saturday night around the four Star Trek Monopoly boards, hook them together, and play the monster version."

The four Star Trek Editions of Monopoly had a fourth of a picture of a wormhole on it. When the parts with those four pieces of the wormhole were connected, the game would be expanded to include all four boards, each player being allowed to skip from board to board where the "Go" spaces touched. The game usually ended long after midnight.

Arnold turned back to his computer and continue designing his own board. Make Your Own Opoly wasn't as easy as it seemed. He still couldn't figure out what to put in the square originally marked "Boardwalk". "Anybody got any ideas for Boardwalk? I'm stumped."

"You could put in your room," Harold suggested.

"Yeah. You made the boardinghouse Park Place, didn't you?" Stinky asked.

Arnold stared at the screen. "Why didn't _I_ think of that?"

"When you're done with it, you _will_ let us play on it, won't you?" Sid asked, hopeful. The whole idea of the neighborhood being made into a Monopoly board was interesting.

"Like I'd really be able to stop you guys!"

A cat yowling on the roof drew the group's attention upward. Arnold frowned. "I'll check it out."

"You sure?" Gerald asked.

"Yeah. You guys can keep up your game."

Arnold stepped over the board, past the group, and began to climb the ladder in the wall at the foot of his bed.

"Be careful, Arnold," Gerald warned.

"I will."

Arnold disappeared through the skylight and soon from view.

~@~

"Stupid cat," the man growled as he continued to sneak across the roof.

"Hold it right there."

He turned to see the kid he had come to fetch standing there, unarmed and with his arms crossed. Somehow, the kid had gotten behind him. However, the man didn't find it too surprising. After all, this _was_ the kid's home turf.

The man pulled out a knife. "You're coming with me, kid."

"Don't think so."

A sudden shock of fear filled the man's body. He stiffened and soon realized he was paralyzed with that fear. "What the…?"

"I'll take that." The boy walked forward and removed the knife from the man's hand. He studied it for a moment, well within arm's reach of the frozen man. "Didn't your parents ever teach you not to threaten people?"

Needless to say, Arnold was not in a good mood. After his encounter with Mr. Green's nephew, he had been silently seething, trying to put the incident behind him. Now this man thought that he could just grab him and run? Not if Arnold had anything to say about it!

Arnold walked back out of arm's reach and sat down on the stage that held Gertie's piano. Idly, he used the very tip of the blade to clean under his fingernails. (A trick he had learned from his grandfather.) "So, why do you want me?"

"Ransom."

"Wrong answer."

Another cold wave of fear gripped the frozen man. He shivered.

"My family doesn't have enough money to make holding me for ransom worthwhile. Care to try again?"

The fear eased a bit, but the man still couldn't move. "I told you. Ransom."

The fear came back full force. He shuddered again.

"You're not a very good liar. I can tell." Just how he could tell, Arnold didn't say. He had a feeling this man already knew the answer to that one. "Just tell me the truth, and I'll send you on your merry little way."

The fear eased once more, but the man shook his head.

"Stubborn, aren't you? I can wait. I have time."

The wave of fear came back once more.

"I don't want to do this, but you're not really leaving me any other choice." He looked up at his captive. "It's called 'negative reinforcement'. I don't like it when you lie to me, so I'm going to keep this up until you stop."

"I was sent."

"By who?"

"I won't say."

"Why?"

The man stood silent, confirming Arnold's own hidden terror.

The fear eased once more.

Arnold glared at the man. "You tell whoever sent you that I am _not_ going anywhere. He wants me? He can forget it."

The fear that held Arnold's captive frozen in place vanished.

"Get out of here, or I'm calling the cops. And I'll be hanging on to this." He held up the knife.

The man didn't leave at first, but a blast of terror sent his feet running as far away from Arnold as possible.

Sid watched the whole thing from the stairwell leading to the roof. He didn't know _what_ Arnold had done, but he had a feeling it tied into what Arnold did for Stinky. As Arnold hid the knife under the stage and walked back towards the skylight, grumbling something under his breath, Sid slipped back down the stairwell and headed towards Arnold's room, acting like he'd just been in the restroom like he'd told his friends.


	7. Chores, Family Meetings, and Tapes

The Secret  
By Cybra

****

A/N: Time to get off my lazy butt and get to work, eh? Just because I have finals is no excuse for slacking. (My muse is a slave driver.) Besides, I think you might like this part! BTW, if anybody wants my little spiel on "Odds", just send me an e-mail. My address is on my author's profile! Now for a little review answering…

****

crystalpinklightsaber – in Yoda voice Patient you must be, young one! Yes. :::grin:::

****

purplepincushion – Thanks for telling me what a Firestarter is! And, no, Arnold's not a Firestarter. ^^

****

JESS – Yeah, I don't really like Jason either. And I _created_ the guy!

****

Paradoxal Reality – Thanks! I try my best to be evil! ^^ And I agree. It's nice to have Arnold a little frustrated with the others once in a while!

****

jc* – Meanie! P Anyway, like I said in the author's note above, if you're interested in my little theories about people like Arnold, just drop me a line! (Shameless e-mail plug. ^^;;;)

****

Disclaimer: Hey Arnold! may not be mine, but this story _is!_ Mine! All mine! Nobody else's! goes on ranting

Chapter 7: "Chores", Family Meetings, and Tapes

Sid awoke the next morning as the sun shone through the skylight in Arnold's room. Harold snored in his own sleeping bag beside the nervous boy while Gerald snoozed on the couch. Stinky was on the floor on the other side of Sid.

Arnold was nowhere to be seen.

The boy with the long nose glanced around, searching for their host. A message on the computer's screensaver caught his attention.

As a scrolling marquee, Arnold had written, "Good morning! Company or not, I still have chores to do. I'll try to save you guys some breakfast, but knowing how my family eats, no promises. – Arnold."

Sid glanced around and noted everyone was still sleeping. He jiggled the mouse, curious to see exactly _what_ was on Arnold's computer that would force him to have a password to start it up.

A message box popped up. "Login?"

Inwardly, the boy groaned. Arnold had a password on his screensaver, too!

Cautiously he typed, "Football Head".

Nothing.

"Footballhead".

Nothing.

"Arnold".

Something happened this time…

…Only it was just like Dennis Nedry's computer from Jurassic Park.

A little animated character that looked like Arnold popped up, waving a finger back and forth. Its voice cheerfully chirped over and over, "Uh uh uh! You didn't say the magic word! Uh uh uh! You didn't say the magic word!"

__

This woke everyone up.

"What the heck's goin' on, Sid?" Stinky asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Gerald looked at the computer screen and groaned before turning to glare at Sid. "You tried three wrong passwords, didn't you?"

"Yeah…"

"Sid, Arnold doesn't like people pokin' into his stuff. Deal with it." He sighed. "We'll have to go find Arnold so he can turn that stupid thing off."

"Where is Arnold, anyway?" Stinky wondered aloud.

"What's for breakfast? I'm hungry!" Harold whined.

"He left a note on the screensaver that said he had chores and he'd try to save us some breakfast," Sid muttered, feeling sheepish.

"So he's downstairs somewhere," Arnold's best friend reasoned. "Let's go get him."

The visiting boys walked down the steps from Arnold's attic room and began to walk down the main stairway before Sid froze, holding up a hand to stop the others behind him.

"What's up with you, Sid?" Gerald demanded.

"Shh!"

Arnold's voice drifted upstairs from the phone below. "I know you wouldn't tell anyone, but _somehow_ someone knows." He paused. "I don't know _who_ exactly, but somebody dropped in uninvited and tried to get me to go with him." Another pause. "I had to scare him off." Another pause but with an exasperated sigh this time. "What else _could_ I do? He was armed. I wasn't."

By now, the four boys on the stairs were growing curious. They crept forward and peeked around the corner.

Arnold was pacing back and forth like a caged tiger, clearly agitated. Whoever was on the other end of the telephone line was obviously not giving him the answers he wanted. His right hand held the phone to his ear while his left hand kept the telephone cord from wrapping around his body as he paced.

"All I'm asking is if there was _any_ point in time when someone could've seen those files." He froze in place suddenly. "When?" He paused, gripping the phone cord tightly. "Why'd you leave them there?" He paused again. "Well, I guess that made sense. Is there any other way of getting into your office?"

Whoever was on the other end of the phone line paused before answering, as if thinking over the question before giving an answer. Arnold waited as patiently as he could.

"Fire escape would be my best guess on way of entry," Arnold told whoever was on the other end. "You can get in and out of any place on a fire escape if you have enough practice." He paused. "It's all right, but right now I'm a little – "

The person on the other end interrupted him with a suggestion.

"I don't think I can go to the cops about that guy. If they _don't_ think I'm on drugs, they'll think I'm pulling a prank of some kind. I think we're on our own here." Arnold paused yet again. "Yeah, I'll keep you updated. Goodbye."

__

Click.

Ernie walked over next to the boy. "Well…?"

"I'm going to have to run a few errands as soon as the guys leave. I'm fairly sure someone saw the files instead of somebody blabbing, but I just want to make sure." Arnold looked forlornly at the telephone. "My worst nightmare's coming true."

"Don't worry. It'll work out. Anything I can do?"

"Yeah. Family meeting at seven. Can you spread it to the others?"

"Sure can. You try to have fun with your friends."

"I hate to say it, but fun's over, Ernie."

"Yeah, I know. I know."

As Ernie walked away, the other boys walked up behind Arnold. So lost in his thoughts the odd-headed boy was that he didn't hear them approach and leaped about a foot in the air with a surprised, almost inhuman, shriek when he turned around. The sound of his wordless cry jerked the other boarders and his grandparents out of whatever they were doing along with scaring the local pigeons.

"Don't _ever_ sneak up on me again!" Arnold snapped angrily, one hand over his wildly beating heart.

"Sorry, Arnold," the country boy answered. "Didn't know you were so cotton pickin' jumpy."

"It's okay. I'm sorry for snapping. I guess I'm a little on edge after last night."

It was a half-truth. He _was_ edgy after last night's run in with that man who had tried to kidnap him. Still, it wasn't the _whole_ truth. He was partially worried about what his friends had heard.

"What's for breakfast?" Harold asked, his hunger making him forget the phone conversation completely.

"Grandma's cooking omelets."

"Hold on a minute. Your grandma's cookin'?" the one Helga called "Tall Hair Boy" demanded.

"Yeah…"

"Are you sure that's _safe?"_

The blonde boy put his hands on his hips, half-closing one eye in a farce raised eyebrow. "Gerald, I eat her food ever day. I haven't died yet. I doubt you will either."

"Your grandma's the one that made those stuffed bell peppers for that eatin' contest, isn't she?" Stinky cautiously asked.

"I don't know _why_ you passed out, Stinky. They're perfectly fine."

"Your grandpa said that they were made of socks!" Sid protested.

"Grandpa was _kidding._ Yeesh! If you guys are _that_ against eating Grandma's food, why don't you guys just go home?"

Clearly, Arnold was not in the mood for an argument. Yesterday had made him uneasy in more than one sense. Knowing that he had only a few hours to run errands he wanted to do made him even more edgy.

Meekly, his friends looked at the floor.

Arnold sighed. "I'm really sorry, you guys…"

Stinky looked at his shorter friend and smiled. "If you were insulting my pa, I wouldn't be very happy either, Arnold. I'd probably be yellin' worse than you!"

The blonde boy smiled for the first time that morning. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

"C'mon! Let's get those omelets! I'm really hungry!" Harold yelled.

~@~

When Arnold walked into the "family room" at exactly seven o'clock that evening, everyone living in the Sunset Arms boardinghouse stopped chattering with each other. Family meeting time. It was time to get down to business.

"We have a problem," Arnold said, deciding to cut right to the chase. "Somebody knows."

The boarders and Arnold's grandparents looked even more serious. Nobody said a word. It was one of those rare times when total seriousness and silence ruled the boardinghouse.

"Last night, an unknown man came onto our roof, intending to take me somewhere. He was armed with this knife."

Arnold placed the knife he had confiscated from his would-be kidnapper on the coffee table. Phil picked it up, studied it for a moment, then put it back down.

"I had to scare him so he'd freeze up and I could disarm him. I also did a little bit of questioning." He looked at each member of his extended family in turn. "He wouldn't tell me who sent him or why, but I think that it's fairly obvious."

There. That was done. They now where all up to date.

The blonde boy looked at each of the adults, a glimmer of fear in the back of those green eyes. "Now what do we do about it?"

"We can't go to the police," Suzie stated right off the bat. "If they don't _already_ think everyone in this house is nuts, they will if we had to tell them the whole story."

"We'll have to set that alarm Mr. Smith left us," Phil reasoned, putting a hand to his chin. "Anybody who wants to go in and out at night is gonna have to just stay inside."

Arnold winced. There went one freedom he enjoyed in the boardinghouse: the freedom to come and go as he pleased.

"It's gonna have to be done, Short Man."

"I know."

"I think that if any of us needs your services, we'll just have to deal with it instead," Ernie suggested. "I mean, nobody can _see_ anything, but it's still a risk."

"But not tonight," Oskar added. "I have been having trouble sleeping and I – "

"Don't even finish that, Oskar! It's too risky!" Suzie ordered her husband.

"Any other ideas?" Arnold asked.

Mr. Hyunh thought for a moment. "We could keep our eyes open. Make sure that nobody suspicious is hanging around the boardinghouse."

"We could set up our own watch!" Gertie shouted, standing up. "We'll barricade the doors! We'll hold stake-outs on suspicious characters!"

"Easy, Pookie…" Phil said, standing up and pushing his wife back down into her seat. "We appreciate the enthusiasm, but I don't think we need to go _that_ far!"

"Oh."

The blonde smiled at his family, feeling a little better. Then he frowned again. "We also have another problem: Sid."

~@~

The moment Sid heard his name, he froze. He was hiding underneath one of the windows of the boardinghouse, tape recorder in hand to catch every word. If this meeting gave him the proof he had to convince the others that Arnold was up to something, he wanted to have hard evidence that nobody could deny.

"Sid's getting too suspicious. He's been trying to poke his nose into my things, including my computer. I think he knows something's going on," Arnold told his bizarre family from somewhere in the main room of the Sunset Arms.

Silence.

"Like what?" a slightly gravelly voice asked.

"I don't know. That's what I'm worried about." He sighed. "Sid once convinced the other kids I had stolen money after driving me crazy with all his suspicions. If he finds out that I can – "

Then Arnold said the one phrase that sealed his fate. Sid almost dropped the tape recorder in shock.

~@~

Arnold jerked visibly, someone's sudden shock and surprise alerting him to an unknown visitor. "He's here!"

The inhabitants of the boardinghouse immediately rose from their seats while the youngest inhabitant of the boardinghouse raced to the window. He saw Sid running as fast as he could down the street.

"Oh no, oh no, oh no…"

The boy with the football-shaped head ran to the front door, opened and closed it so fast that he almost caught himself in it, and raced up the street after his friend.

__

'Stupid! Even with all your caution, you couldn't prevent this! And it's all your fault, stupid boy!' he berated himself.

He turned a corner sharply, easily making the same maneuver that had almost caused Sid to slip. He followed Sid stride for stride, turn for turn, hoping, _praying_ that he could head him off.

Up ahead, the others had congregated on Gerald's stoop. They seemed to be waiting for something.

__

'Here it comes, stupid boy: Your worst nightmare comes true. Now what're you going to do?'

Sid skidded to a stop, almost slamming into the side of the stoop.

"Okay, Sid. What's this all about?" Gerald demanded.

Sid panted and held out the tape recorder. "Arnold's – _pant, pant_ – not what he seems. _Pant, pant._ And this – _pant, pant_ – is proof."

Helga exchanged glances with Phoebe. What was this all about?

Arnold ran up to the group and stared in shock as Gerald took the tape player, hit the rewind button for a second, then reached for the play button.

__

'It's all over, stupid boy. Kiss your old life "goodbye". And it's all your fault.'

Gerald's thumb pressed down the play button.


	8. The Truth is Out

The Secret  
By Cybra

****

A/N: Ah! We meet again! Are you ready for this part? Yes? No? Well, it's the moment you've all been waiting for…the secret is out!

****

Houkanno Yuuhou – I have intrigued you? :::steeples fingers ala Mr. Burns::: Excellent… ^^ Look forward to an e-mail in your mailbox! Also, can I _please_ post my story on "Gerald's Library"? :::big puppy dog eyes:::

****

JESS – As I said in an earlier review, Helga doesn't know since nothing is visible. She and Phoebe were just exchanging confused looks. :::watches as JESS continues freaking out::: Uh…can you sign this? :::holds up contract::: This is just a little document that does _not_ hold me responsible for any passing out and/or heart attacks you may have while reading.

****

Kaiobaby – Yeah, I think it's neat that for once _Arnold's_ got the power, too. ^^ However, it's not exactly a _healing_ power. You'll understand in a few chapters. Don't worry. ^^

****

Van the Key of Lain – BWAHAHAHAHA! I _do_ know when to add in a cliffhanger, yes? ;)

****

Luvya – I know what you wanted, but I can't give that to you. I've got plans. :::evil grin:::

****

Paradoxal Reality – Yes! A cliffhanger! That's what it was! ^^ And, yes, Sid _does_ cause a lot of trouble, even in the TV show!

****

Irina – Nah. If I coulda left you guys with more suspense, I would've teased you a little more. ;)

****

Disclaimer: Hey Arnold! isn't mine. :::blinks::: Wait a minute. It's not? How can this _be?!_ ;) Just kidding! I don't own "Football Head" and the gang.

Chapter 8: The Truth is Out

" – crazy with all his suspicions. If he finds out that I can manipulate people's emotions, it's all over."

The voice on the tape was most definitely Arnold's. No one who knew him could say otherwise.

The children all stared at the boy they thought they knew in stupefied shock. Time slowed so much that it was nearly frozen. Nobody – not even Gerald – fully registered Arnold walking up to his best friend and hitting the stop button of the tape recorder.

Silence reigned.

The blonde boy had expected to feel terrified, exposed, upset, or _something._ What surprised him was his total _lack_ of emotion. It was as if his emotions had been sucked into a void.

Suddenly, time snapped back to its normal rate.

"What did you mean by that?" Phoebe asked, the hand that had covered her mouth only a few seconds (or had it been a few millennia?) before slowly returning to its place by her side.

Their fear was so tangible that he had to strengthen mental shielding that only two other children had. "Just what I said. I can manipulate the very emotions of anyone I wish. I'm a Level 5 Empath, the strongest kind there is. I can feel other people's emotions, stir those emotions up, take an emotion away from one person and put it in someone else, sense people coming just from feeling their emotions, or just change that person's emotions. And that may just be the _beginning_ of all I can do for all I know."

Why did he sound so calm? He had no reason to _be_ calm. His old life was over. Forget just sitting back and hanging out with his friends. Now there would be knowledge of him being able to read every one of their emotions even if they _tried_ to hide them.

"How?"

Arnold felt himself shrug. "I was born with it."

It was unreal. It was almost as if – cliché as it sounded – he was no longer a part of his own body. He almost didn't believe it was real. He half-expected to wake up any time now in his room in a cold sweat.

Rhonda seemed to be the one to ask the obvious question, the question that his friends in his darkest dreams kept demanding. "You lied to us the whole time, didn't you?"

He turned his head quickly to face her, slowly backing off his best friend's stoop to reach ground zero. "What?"

"You lied about wanting to help us."

__

That nearly knocked him off his feet. "Rhonda, I didn't lie! I _do_ want to – "

"Then why didn't you tell us?!" Sid demanded, cutting in.

"Because you wouldn't understand!"

"What's to understand?" the boy with the backwards baseball cap asked coldly.

Harold pointed an accusing finger at the boy who had helped them all so many times. "You were using us the whole time!"

"You _could_ manipulate our emotions without us knowing it, couldn't you?"

Gerald's soft tones nearly broke Arnold's heart. He lowered his shields a bit, wanting, _needing_ to feel them…

He immediately re-raised those shields and strengthened them. Emotions had different "temperatures" to them. Nice, happy emotions were either pleasantly warm or cool. Those pleasantly warm feelings were non-existent, replaced by the icy grip of fear in the hearts of his friends that was quickly melting away and boiling into anger and flaming hatred.

Something in Arnold's mind and heart sparked his own flame of anger. On some level, he had believed his dreams weren't true. His friends' actions brought up feelings of betrayal, sparking that burning emotion. He was – by nature – a very passionate creature, and his friends would be quick to learn that lesson for his anger now boiled up, rising out of the pit in which his other emotions had fled.

"How could you possibly say that?" Arnold spat.

The Odd – the only one the children around him had ever seen – had _never_ spoken in that tone of voice before. It wasn't even a menacing hiss. It was like the quick strike of a rattlesnake, his words traveling quickly to the core of their beings.

His relatively small frame trembled with barely bridled anger. If they thought that seeing him out of control with his martial arts was bad, the display of temper they were going to see was definitely worse.

Not even _Helga_ dared speak as he glared at all of them. His eyes were no longer the cool, mysterious emerald gems that the blonde girl had often described in her poetry. They were green fireballs that seared into anyone he looked at, igniting terror in the hearts of the people who were beginning to despise him.

"How could you?" he spat again. "I've done so much for you all. I've helped you gain confidence in yourselves. I've helped you gain the courage to do what needed to be done. I've advised you when you needed my help. **And _this_ is the thanks I get?!"**

The last sentence wasn't a shout. It wasn't a yell. It was the roar of an angry lion that had just been offended. For once, nobody in the group wondered where the name "Kimba" that Gertie called her grandson by came from.

The fire of anger had a new name now: rage. Every nerve ending seemed to burn with the white-hot heat. He could feel his own body flushing as a reaction. The volcanic fury that had built up in him seared his emotional shields, demanding to be released.

"Why did I never tell you? Because of my nightmares of this moment," he snarled. "In those dreams, you would accuse me, fear me, _hate me_ even though I had proven to you _again and again_ that I would _never_ use _any_ of you for personal gain!"

Trembling with violently suppressed emotion, he took a step closer to his friends. Involuntarily, they cringed away, never having seen their friend lose his temper before.

"And I just want to _thank you…"_ These two words he snarled in an even more feral tone than before. "…for proving those dreams **right!"**

His control was slipping, his rage beginning to run away with him. Some part of him didn't want him to be angry, just to calm down and explain everything…

__

'Calm down,' his conscience told him. _'You'll only do something you'll regret.'_

For the first time in his life, Arnold ignored that voice of reason. It wasn't _time_ for his conscience to kick in yet. He wasn't through being mad just yet.

Tentatively, Helga tried to step towards him, nearly cringing back again when Arnold's head snapped around in her direction.

"Just…calm down…Arnold," the Pataki girl stammered. "We don't hate – "

"Helga, I can _feel_ it!" he snapped. "Right now all of you are scared, but underneath it all, I can still feel it!"

The blonde girl supposed she had no real response to it. _She_ certainly didn't hate him, quite the opposite actually. However, she couldn't vouch for the emotions of her fellow children.

He balled his hands up in fists, fighting to regain total control over his emotions. Level 5 Empath or not, he knew he was terrifying when his temper flared up. He barely registered the pain as his short fingernails penetrated the skin of his palms. Hot blood trickled over his fingers and under his fingernails.

His rage pounded against his emotional shields, demanding to be set free and to show them why they should _never_ cross him this far.

Couldn't they feel the heat? It scorched him, engulfing every fiber of his being. Their own temporarily buried hatred kept the rage burning, adding fuel to the fire. Couldn't they feel the oppressive heat?

Arnold spun sharply and quickly on his left heel and turned his back on them. Slowly, he took deep breaths and tried to walk as calmly as he could away, making his step more of a half-march. Turning a corner, he vanished from sight.

The resulting silence was deafening as Helga took the opportunity to slip away as well.

~@~

Helga followed her love at a distance, still not sure of what to do or say. What _could_ she say? He could read her very emotions, so did that mean he could sense her following –

Her thoughts froze in mid-thought as the rest of her froze as well.

"Oh. My."

She opened her mouth to scream as she had done so many times, then clapped a hand over her mouth to stop the screaming. If he didn't notice her presence already, a scream would _definitely_ alert him to someone following him.

She hadn't been thinking clearly since the recording on the tape. She hadn't bothered to stop and actually _think_ about how it affected her.

Did he know her deepest darkest secret but was actually playing dumb all this time?

Did he know that she, Helga G. Pataki, was in love with him and worshipped him from afar?

Thinking back to what he'd said, she realized there might be a chance. He said he could read _emotions,_ not minds. Maybe, just maybe, he could sense her desire but didn't have a clue as to what it was directed towards.

The blonde girl certainly hoped so.

She hurried forward as Arnold turned another corner, each of his steps becoming less angry and more defeated.

Arnold? Defeated? The terms didn't seem to go together.

To her surprise, he avoided the boardinghouse and headed to the park. He probably still wanted to burn off some steam before he returned home. She continued to follow at a distance, using his odd-shaped head to easily pick him out of the crowd. There weren't very many Odds in Hillwood.

He walked to a distant corner of City Lake, beyond where people in rowboats would row. The permanent mist that existed there hid his features, but his silhouette continued to drift forward, a phantom wandering alone. When he disappeared from sight, she continued forward.

He had seated himself on a rock beside the lake, his body twisted so his left hand was closest to the water. He rested his chin on his right hand.

He looked so miserable! He even seemed to be mourning something. Perhaps he was mourning the loss of the life he had until about ten minutes ago.

Helga's heart went out to him, simultaneously hoping he didn't feel her presence. He might not want to talk to her. However, his sad mood seemed to attract other company…

A light splash of water caught his and her attention, making Arnold turn to face his aquatic visitor.

__

'Big Caesar…!' she gasped in her thoughts.

The enormous fish pulled up alongside the rock and looked up at the downhearted boy. The living urban legend of City Lake gave a little splash with his fin.

"Hey," Arnold whispered, reaching forward and stroking the monster fish.

__

'He and Geraldo **weren't** lying all this time! There **is** a Big Caesar! Which means they **did** catch him and let him go!'

Big Caesar seemed to enjoy the attention for a while before he looked up once more at the human boy. He twisted his head towards the setting sun.

"When'd it get so late?" the blonde boy wondered quietly, his tone flat.

Even his voice sounded defeated, like the world had truly ended. Had they really done _that_ to him?

Thinking back, Helga realized that they had. By accusing him and not letting him explain himself, he had been forced to do the one thing he hadn't _wanted_ to do:

He pushed them away.

No. He didn't _push_ them away.

He _shoved_ them away.

"I gotta go. Take care," he told the fish, rising from his seat on the rock.

Big Caesar dived into the water, slapping the surface with his tail in a "goodbye" wave before he vanished into the murky depths of City Lake.

With the large fish went the last feeling of emptiness Arnold had, leaving only grief.

~@~

The inhabitants of the Sunset Arms stood waiting anxiously as their youngest member walked in the front door. He said not a word to them, only focusing his gaze on the ground. Instead, he walked slowly up the stairs towards his room.

Something was different in the Sunset Arms that evening. The small, almost invisible emotions the youngest inhabitant generally let bleed off were gone. So tight was his control that not one iota of emotion leaked, unnerving everyone living in the boardinghouse.

The gray and white cat Rita raced after him, not wanting him to be alone. She followed him up to his room and didn't make the slightest objection as he closed the door.

"It's over."

Those were the only two words he got out before he leaned against the door, sliding slowly down to the floor. His body shook with silent sobs, but not a sound was uttered and not a tear was shed. He gripped the carpet as if it was his lifeline.

Rita sprinted over to him and began to nuzzle him, purring as comfortingly as possible. She wanted to help, but how could she?

"They'll never forgive me. Never," he whispered harshly, his voice raw. "I did this to myself. I should've just _said_ something. I shouldn't have lost my temper. I should've – "

His first anguished sob finally escaped as he brought his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. He leaned his head against his knees, letting the tears flow freely. It had been a while since he'd cried like this, and it felt…good…in a way.

Rita rubbed against him and tried to wash away his tears with her small pink tongue, but they kept flowing.

A soft knocking at his door barely caught his attention.

"Arnold?" his grandfather called.

He opened his mouth to tell Phil to leave him alone, but all that came out was another sob. His body shook violently as he coughed from crying so much.

"Short Man, let me in. Please?"

More coughing and more sobbing escaped from Arnold. He wanted to be alone in his self-inflicted misery.

"Arnold, please come out," Gertie – in a rare moment of total sanity – pleaded. "You'll make yourself sick."

All of their pleas were answered by that heartbreaking sobbing.


	9. Kidnapped!

The Secret  
By Cybra

****

A/N: I decided to take pity on you people. ^^ I'm going to get this one out earlier than normal because I darn well feel like it! And it's answering reviews time!

****

Kaiobaby – Meep! :::hides under desk::: Please don't hurt me! I'm afraid of _pain_ and _blood!_ :::meek smile::: Also, I know I haven't reviewed, but I like "Out Going Summer". Too busy to review. Sorry. And thanks for mentioning my story!

****

Dru – Good guess, Dru! Congrats on figuring it out!

****

catwoman (alias rock-steady13) – Between death threats from Kaiobaby and threats of being responsible for someone dying from you, I'm going to become a nervous wreck! Hope you enjoy this part!

****

Luvya – I hope this came out soon enough for ya! ^^ I'm going to Fort Wilderness, a Disney campground for a few days. It's gonna be cool!

****

Paradoxal Reality – You must be another "Double A" (AKA "Arnold Angst") lover. ^^;;; Yeah, I like making Arnold deal with his own problems. I have a theory that, underneath it all, Arnold really _is_ as fragile as glass, but he covers it up like Helga does though not for the same reasons. Drop me a line sometime, and we'll talk!

****

Disclaimer: Hey Arnold! does not belong to me, but if you _try_ to claim that I said it _did_ belong to me, the Fish Market Mafia will be all over you!

Chapter 9: Kidnapped!

"I severely doubt that he'll try that trick again in broad daylight," the odd-headed man stated, referring to the first attempt at kidnapping a certain boy. "However, we may have to take special precautions."

The man who had tried to kidnap Arnold on Friday night looked at his partner. "What _kind_ of precautions?"

Their employer tossed a small pistol in his direction that he caught with some fumbling. "A sedative. Get behind him, shoot him, grab him, then bring him here."

"Yes, sir!"

The two men immediately left, leaving their employer and his daughter standing there.

"They won't hurt him, will they?" a nine year-old Odd girl asked her father.

"No, sweetheart. He'll be just fine," the man kindly told his daughter.

She smiled brightly at him, pushing a lock of black hair out of her face. "Can I meet him?"

"I don't see why not. Actually, I wanted you to be the first person he sees when he wakes up. It might make him a little more comfortable to see someone his age."

Sean McMillan smiled as his daughter Maya smiled even more.

"I can't wait to finally meet him!" she said, hopping from foot to foot.

"I know, sweetie. I know. Why don't you make sure everything's ready for our guest?"

Giving her father a kiss, Maya ran from the room.

~@~

Arnold woke up in his room, sighing loudly. The lingering scent of lavender filled the air, tempting him to just shut his eyes and go back to sleep.

He sat up and was surprised to find himself still in his street clothes. When he searched his memory, the last thing he remembered was curling up between his grandparents on the couch as he and his extended family had a movie night. They must've brought him upstairs after he'd fallen asleep.

Glancing around, he saw the melted candle on his shelf. He must've been having horrible nightmares if they lit the lavender-scented candle.

Then he remembered Saturday.

A lump formed in his throat, and as he tried to swallow, he gagged, awakening Rita from her sleep beside him. He froze up, feeling that any sudden movements would break him to pieces.

He barely remembered Sunday since most of it was spent in his room. He didn't leave the safety of the boardinghouse all day. His friends' very tangible hatred, anger, and fear kept him inside on a day his spirit longed to be in the sun.

Now, it was Monday. He had to get up and go to school. He had to go out and face the world.

Arnold found himself wanting to hide in a very deep and very dark hole somewhere.

Rita mewed, rubbing against him comfortingly as if she understood what was wrong. She purred soothingly, trying to make him loosen up.

"Might as well get it over with."

He dressed himself in fresh clothing, ending his morning ritual by adjusting his hat just so. He then paused, studying himself in the mirror.

He looked like a wreck. His eyes were red with dark bags sagging underneath them. His face was pale with strain. Streaks left over from tears that had been shed glistened in the morning light.

Sighing once again, Arnold opened the door to his room and left, his cat right behind him.

~@~

He sat alone at a picnic table during recess, fully aware that everyone was avoiding him. Rumors spread at the speed of light, and his little secret was out in full view of everyone by midmorning.

Arnold focused all his attention on the book in his lap, trying to engross himself more into the story than into his life. It was less painful than simply facing reality at the moment.

"Arnold?" a small voice asked.

He jerked his head up to see a younger boy with black hair standing in front of him, a bag of radishes in his hand. "Choc – er…Radish Boy?"

After Arnold had purged him of his chocolate habit, the boy formerly known as "Chocolate Boy" had become rather addicted to radishes. When some people asked Arnold if he was going to try to get "Radish Boy" off the radish habit, Arnold had shrugged then stated that radishes were healthy and good for him anyway. Everyone realized that in a sense, it was for the best that Radish Boy ate radishes all the time instead of chocolate. It was the lesser of two evils.

Radish Boy shifted nervously from foot to foot. "Can I ask you a question?"

The blonde boy blinked but set aside his book. "Sure. What?"

"What's it like?"

Again the blonde blinked. "What…?"

"What's it like? I mean, what's it like to feel someone else's emotions?"

Arnold was tempted to lower his shielding. Could it be possible that Radish Boy wasn't afraid? It would be nice to feel the black-haired boy's emotions and see…

Just as he was about to lower his shielding, he stopped himself. Even if Radish Boy _wasn't_ afraid, many others were. By lowering his shielding, he would expose himself to their fear and anger. He didn't want to do that. It was better to have this solid wall between himself and the rest of the world than to feel their loathing.

"It's…nice," Arnold slowly began, not exactly sure what to say.

"Really?" The younger boy sat down beside the blonde who had rid him of his chocolate habit.

Encouraged, Arnold said, "Well, it's kinda weird in a way. I mean, you feel somebody _else's_ emotions and sometimes you forget that they're not yours." He closed his eyes and a small smile lighted on his lips. "You really forget that they're not yours when everyone around you is having fun and relaxed. You can't help feeling happy and relaxed, too. It feels…good."

Radish Boy nodded, showing that he was trying to understand. "So it's a good thing?"

"It's a curse, too," Arnold explained, his smile fading into oblivion. "You feel the bad stuff, too. It makes it easier for me to help people, but that doesn't mean I like it." He looked down at the ground. "A lot of times the bad emotions are a lot stronger than the good emotions."

"Like now?"

Helga peeked around the corner, watching her beloved as he sadly nodded. She slipped back around the corner, glanced around, and pulled out her Arnold locket. "Oh, Arnold! My love! Why can't I go over there myself and comfort you? _Why_ can't I share your pain as you share the pain of all of us?! If _only_ I could remove this horrible burden from your already overburdened shoulders! If _only_ I could bring our peers to understand that you mean no harm! But alas! The fools we live among continuously refuse to listen to reason! _Why_ can't they just _accept_ that – "

She halted her speech as she saw a car stop across the street. Two masked men stepped out of the car, walking slowly towards PS 118. The first thing she noticed about them was their football-shaped heads.

"Who're those guys?" she wondered.

The two men walked past her, not noticing the nine year-old. She peeked around the corner as they walked around the fenced in corner.

She froze as she saw one of them aim a pistol through the fence. **"Arnold!"**

"Huh?!" he shouted, surprised at being forced out of thoughts.

If Arnold had taken the risk of lowering his shielding, he would've sensed their approach. He would have recognized the emotional "signature" of one of the two men: the man who had tried to kidnap him before. He would've managed to escape.

But he hadn't lowered his emotional shields.

There wasn't that explosive _bang_ that guns ordinarily make when this one went off. It was more of a _hiss_ as a dart shot free of the barrel and lodged itself into Arnold's back over his left shoulder blade.

Yelping, Arnold rose from his seat and reached over his shoulder to grab the dart. By now, all attention was on him.

As he jerked the dart out of his flesh, he quickly realized it was too late. The dart was empty, its contents already in his bloodstream.

****

"Nobody move!" one of the two masked men shouted. **"Or the next shot's going to be deadly!"**

The man who had not fired the dart pulled out another pistol, this one guaranteed to be loaded with bullets. He walked with his partner into the schoolyard, walking confidently past frozen students.

The world around Arnold swayed, and he shook his head to try to clear it. Everything was going out of focus…

"Leave me alone…" he managed to slur out, his words starting to run together.

"Just give up. The juice'll get ya in a few seconds anyway," the man who had attempted to kidnap him before ordered.

In a last feeble attempt, Arnold lashed out with whatever fear he had inside of himself, throwing it at the two men. However, he didn't have the concentration to use it the way he intended. The two men only paused for a moment.

He collapsed to the ground, staring up at his two kidnappers uncomprehendingly. He slowly blinked as the sedative's affect began to take over his mind.

"Thatta boy," the second man cooed, grinning underneath the mask. "Just take a nap."

Arnold had no choice as his body and mind surrendered to the darkness, his empathic ability giving a final desperate "cry" to those surrounding him. He lay limp on the asphalt.

"Grab him," the one holding the gun ordered his partner.

The man who had fired the dart walked over and scooped up the sedated child, grinning. "Couldn't get away _this_ time, could ya, smart kid?"

"Let's amscray before someone calls the cops," the gun-wielding Odd snapped.

"Right."

Carrying their prize, the two men left, placing Arnold in the backseat of their car and then driving off.

Not one student could move the entire time, their terror freezing them.

~@~

"We got him, Mr. McMillan!" the kidnapper carrying the boy shouted.

McMillan smiled and stood, walking over to the sleeping child. "Excellent. No problems?"

"No, sir. Pretty much out like a light after that dart hit him."

McMillan frowned. "Hm…Probably too much sedative. Oh well. He'll just feel a little groggier when he wakes up. Nothing too unusual."

The man leaned towards the sleeping blonde, not saying a word.

"He doesn't _look_ like he's very dangerous," the other kidnapper stated.

"That's why he got _away_ the first time. We _underestimated_ him," McMillan snapped. "But young Arnold here is _exactly_ what I've been hoping for all these years."

"What do we do with him, sir?"

"Take him to his room. Maya will take good care of him when he wakes up. Then I'll have a little chat with him when he's feeling more comfortable."

"Yes, sir!"

~@~

Maya gazed down at Arnold's sleeping form, shivering with delight. After all this time, she _finally_ had the opportunity to meet him!

Her father had been surprised by the fact that she already knew who he was. Then, he'd been pleased for some reason she didn't quite understand. It must've been because he was worried she'd become jealous.

She pulled out a scrapbook filled with the few newspaper clippings about the sleeping boy on the bed. He had fascinated her from the first time she'd heard his name. Now, she could actually _talk_ to him!

Again, she shivered with delight.

Perhaps he would teach her some of the things he knew. She hadn't gotten the opportunity to learn from Dr. Pollock herself when her father financed the good doctor's research project. Something about making sure the results were accurate and unbiased.

Perhaps he would tell her what it was like to live among non-Odds. She had lived most of her life away from those round-headed people. She shivered again, but this time not from pleasure. She remembered their taunts and jeers just because of the shape of her head.

Perhaps he would become good friends with her, someone she could talk to. There weren't very many children among her father's associates. Besides, none of those children was even a weak Level 1 Empath like herself.

Or perhaps…

She flushed red as she thought of the fourth possibility.

Perhaps he would come to like her as _more_ than a friend.

Maya certainly wouldn't mind.

Slowly, tentatively, she reached out and touched his golden blonde hair. The sedative he was under kept him from awakening as she ran her fingers through those soft strands. She brushed the back of her hand against his cheek, shivering with delight at the touch of his soft skin.

In a word, he was _exquisite._

The articles Maya had read on this extraordinary boy had led her to fantasies involving him showing her the world outside of the building in which she lived. Or in other fantasies, he would appear when "Rounders" had cornered her and wouldn't leave her be, and he would rescue her, chasing away the jeering crowd. In still other fantasies, she would be sitting on the roof of the building, and he would slip up behind her, wrapping his arms around her.

She trembled at the wave of emotions, all her fantasies rushing to her mind.

He still did not awaken under her touch.

To Maya, this was fine. To touch this example of Odd perfection was something she had always longed for.

Let him dream a while longer.

She could wait.


	10. Dr. Pollock's Research

The Secret  
By Cybra

****

A/N: Ah, yes. Things get more interesting. ^^ Tee hee hee…Anyway, this one doesn't have any action. It's mainly explanation of an Empath. Just so you guys aren't _totally_ lost. ^^ Now, on to the reviews!

****

Van the Key of Lain – I know this is an answer to a review of Chapter 8 that I didn't see until _after_ I posted up Chapter 9 but…**_You watch Star Trek?! Holy cow! I love Star Trek TOS!!!_** clears throat Glad to see a fellow Star Trek lover out there! ^^ And the episode you "mentioned", that's where I got the idea! ^^

****

kitfunk – Okay, calm down, girl…guy…whatever you are. The pairing of Arnold/Maya is _completely_ one-sided. Trust me on this one. Don't have a spazz.

****

Irina – I'm glad that you're interested! Hope you like this part! It should help explain things. ^^

****

Sennical – Thanks! And, yeah, there are days that I want to wring Sid's neck, too. His and Rhonda's, but we're not going there…^^

****

Paradoxal Reality – whining I wanna see "Parents Day"! It'd probably be my favorite episode of all time from what I've heard of it! :::stops whining::: Anyway, don't you just _love_ complex story plots? ^^

****

Kaiobaby – sighs with relief Thank you for not shooting me! :::reads review again::: Not _quite_ the Football-Headed Mafia, but close enough. You kind of have a step in the right direction. As far as a description for Maya, wait until the next chapter. I know I can hardly wait to see a drawing of her! ^^

****

LM – I got this one out as soon as possible. Is this soon enough? ^^;;; I was holding on to it so that I could make it as good as I could. Enjoy!

****

Notebook Girl – I loved that episode! It was one of my faves! Wasn't Choc…er…Radish Boy great? He finally got off of chocolate! Glad you liked my last chapter!

****

Disclaimer: Remember the Fish Market Mafia I mentioned in Chapter 9's disclaimer? Well, they'll still come after you if you claim that I said I owned Hey Arnold!.

Chapter 10: Dr. Pollock's Research

Cops had questioned every child who had been on the playground when Arnold had been kidnapped. Every one of them said the same thing: Two masked Odds had slipped up behind Arnold on the other side of the fence, fired some sort of pistol, then came inside the fence and grabbed him after he passed out. Analysis of the dart Arnold had removed from his shoulder confirmed that a sedative had been used.

The police knew the "how", knew the "when", and knew the "where"…

Now the only question was "why".

"Sir, I know this is difficult, but we need to understand _why_ these men decided to kidnap your grandson," the lieutenant patiently told the old man sitting across from him.

Phil and the two officers sat along with the rest of the members of the boardinghouse around the dining room table. Several kids had opted to sit in, those kids being the same children who had heard Arnold's secret at the time it'd been revealed: Sid, Gerald, Harold, Stinky, Rhonda, Nadine, Helga, and Phoebe.

"It could've been an enemy," he told the officers. "I mean, Arnold's not liked by _everyone._ He's brought down a few corporations' big plans. Someone coulda done it because of revenge."

"The car was described as being a pricey sports car," the lieutenant's partner commented.

The officer nodded as he and his partner stood. "If any ransom notes show up, don't hesitate to call."

"Yes, officer."

The two officers left. Phil sighed and sipped at the tea in front of him.

Neither the boarders nor the owners spoke for five minutes.

Phoebe quietly asked, "Why didn't you tell them about Arnold's…ability?"

"They'd never believe me. But if they _had_ asked for another reason, I'da given it to them. I called over Dr. Bliss to explain it."

"Woah, wait. Dr. Bliss? As in the child psychologist?" Helga demanded, secretly afraid.

"Yup. The Short Man goes to her once a week starting a few weeks ago. They're continuing a study started ages ago."

As if on cue, there was a knock on the door. Suzie stood and answered it, then led the child psychologist who was carrying four folders to the dining room.

"Looks like I'm a little late," Dr. Bliss noted.

"It's okay, Christine," Suzie said. "They weren't willing to stick around for another explanation. I think this place gives them the creeps."

The psychologist shrugged and took Ernie's offered chair. She folded her hands on the table and saw the other children standing there. "I'm guessing I'm going to have to explain anyway."

"Yeah. They found out on Saturday," Ernie told her.

"All right then." Dr. Bliss watched as all of the children shifted. "I want to know what Arnold told you so far."

"He said he's a Level 5 Empath. Whatever _that_ is," Gerald told her.

"He also said he could read emotions and stuff," Harold put in.

The child psychologist nodded. "In other words, he barely scratched the surface." She slid a folder towards the children.

Rhonda was the only one who dared open it. Inside was an old picture of Arnold when he was four years old. Paper clipped to it was a basic data sheet dated several years ago with the following information:

__

Name: Arnold

Age: 4

Physical Characteristics: Blonde hair, green eyes, height of 3'2", weight of 74 pounds; Odd

Level: 5

"Well that shows us one thing: he was always a shrimp," Helga commented.

"What does all this mean?" Phoebe asked, glancing at the many pages of notes in the folder.

"Arnold was one of the only three subjects in a study on Empaths, people who work directly with emotions. Dr. Jay Pollock, my mentor, had a theory that such people actually _existed_ but had no real proof other than legends and myths. Nobody would provide him with the funding to conduct a study to see if it was possible. He continued to write papers on the theory, but no scientist was willing to risk his reputation on that theory except Jay – I mean, Dr. Pollock. However, _somebody_ read his papers on the subject and decided to provide him with the funding to run his little study. That was eight years ago." She slid the main folder towards Phoebe. "Two children identified only as 'Steven' and 'Mary' – a five year-old and a four year-old respectively – arrived to him soon afterward. They had nothing in common except that sometimes they reported feeling faint emotions that weren't their own and sometimes their families picking up those same faint emotions from each child. After a little study, Dr. Pollock discovered that these children _were_ Empaths. _Here_ was his proof that they existed. Still, he kept it a secret until he had enough information to satisfy skeptics."

Dr. Bliss took the tea that Suzie offered with a smile, pausing as she took a sip from it.

"So where does Arnold fit into this?" Nadine asked.

"I'm getting to that. Just be patient." She set the teacup back down in its saucer. "He soon discovered that the boy wasn't as strong as the girl, and it occurred to him that Empaths could have different strengths. He devised the system of Levels to identify the strength of certain Empaths at a glance. Level 1 Empaths can faintly sense other people's emotions and can faintly…I suppose the word is 'leak'…their emotions to other people. Level 5 Empaths can do all that Arnold can do and possibly more." She took another sip of tea. "We don't _know_ how far Arnold's power can go. So far, every limitation we've expected has been no trouble at all. Just give him a little practice, and he'll do whatever you want him to."

"Wow…" Gerald whispered in awe.

Helga leaned against the table. "Yeah, that's cool, but why don't you ask the other two how far _their_ power goes to get a general idea?"

"Well, there's two problems with that. One, we don't know who Steve or Mary _are._ They could be _anyone._ It would take forever to find the right two. Two, neither of those two is a Level 5. At last check, Mary was a weak Level 3 while Steve was a strong Level 2."

"At last check?" Phoebe repeated, intrigued.

"Yes. With practice, an Empath can improve his or her ability, moving them up into different Levels. At the beginning, Mary was already a Level 2 while Steve was a weak Level 1."

"What was _Arnold_ at the beginning?" Helga pressed.

"Level 5."

"From the very beginning?!" Sid shrieked.

"From the very beginning."

The inhabitants of the Sunset Arms weren't shocked by this knowledge. They'd been there when Arnold's "talent" was discovered.

The other children were _extremely_ shocked.

"But if Arnold's ability is as strong as I think it is, how did he manage to get through the first few years of his life without going insane?" Phoebe asked. "I mean, he had no sort of protection against the emotions that bombarded him."

"That's the thing that Dr. Pollock could never figure out. You see, Arnold first came to him a year after the beginning of the study: when Arnold was two years old. However, Dr. Pollock had a theory. He compared his three subjects and noticed that for the first years of their lives, their abilities hadn't shown up. He theorized that there might be a natural shielding that breaks down a few years after birth. However, it seemed to happen to his first two subjects at later times in their lives: Steve when he was four and Mary when she was three. So he amended his theory. Under _ordinary_ circumstances, this natural shielding broke down a few years after birth _but_ intense emotion _could_ break down that shielding if it was strong enough and it lasted long enough."

"And at age two Arnold's parents left to aid people to South America," Phil inserted. "The Short Man was so upset, he could hardly think of anything else for almost two weeks."

"That great sadness for that long period of time must've whittled away at the shielding, leaving a hole that quickly grew larger. Soon, his emotions were being sent to everyone around him, and he picked up the emotions of everyone around him. Once Arnold was in his study, Dr. Pollock immediately took steps to help him create the strong mental shielding that Arnold now has in order to block those outside emotions. However, it takes a lot of energy to maintain those shields at maximum strength, so he usually just maintains a strong shielding just weak enough to let 'ghosts' of emotion slip out or slip in. He might lower them further if he wants to." She gave a small smile. "One effect of teaching Arnold to maintain that shielding was that it taught him discipline in order to keep himself in check. In a sense, he began to mature _mentally_ faster than most children his age."

"That explains a lot," Rhonda commented.

"Yeah, he always knows what ta do," Stinky added. "It's almost like he's already an adult."

"Mentally, possibly. Physically, obviously not," Dr. Bliss confirmed. "That along with being a Level 5 puts him out of place in this world. He's in his own category."

"You can say that again," Helga muttered.

"I believe we all understand what Arnold _is_ now," Phoebe stated. "But why would someone want him?"

The child psychologist sighed. "Dr. Pollock had another theory about Empaths. Or rather, he had a theory that some of the most evil leaders our world has ever seen were Empaths. He definitely suspected Hitler of being a weak one."

"Why?"

"Well, Hitler was able to elicit vast amounts of support when he spoke. Dr. Pollock had a theory that not only did his _manner_ of speaking affect his listeners, but also his very emotions. Even a weak Empath can spread emotion. All you'd have to do is just distract that person, insert that emotion into them, and stand back. Just by spreading it to a few supporters in the crowd, he could start a domino effect. His supporters' enthusiasm would naturally spread from person to person in the crowd. Pretty soon, the whole crowd would be cheering for him."

"And A-Arnold could do s-s-something like that?" Harold stuttered, his eyes wide.

"He could do better. All he'd have to do is focus, and everyone would be cheering for him without him saying a word. We've started experimenting to see if he could possibly slip in and/or read emotions without being noticed."

"He's very good," Suzie stated.

"Yeah, we've been his lab rats for these little experiments for years, so we know what to look for," Ernie told them. "When he started out, it wasn't so good. We knew he was doin' somethin' right away. But as he kept practicing…"

"…none of us could figure out if _we_ were the ones responsible for certain emotions or if _Arnold_ was," the Vietnamese man finished.

"I asked him if he could get people on the street to be generous enough to hand out money as part of his experiment. He wouldn't do it," Oskar added. At the glares of his extended family he laughed nervously, saying, "Just kidding."

"Somehow I doubt that," Phil growled, glaring at the other married man. The old man turned back to the listening children. "Once the experiment was over, we strictly forbid Arnold from ever using that unless there was no other choice. We shouldn't have worried. He was so scared that he'd abuse it that he was experimenting on his own so he could come up with a way of alerting people of his presence. Ya know, something anybody could recognize."

"So far, he's still struggling on that one," Dr. Bliss told her audience. "Arnold's been thinking along the lines of encouraging the mind to call up a certain picture for when he's doing something with their emotions so they're not scared. So far, he hasn't been able to encourage the mind to come up with the same picture twice."

"So that way we can just tell him to back off if we don't want him doing something?" Sid asked.

"Right. He doesn't like invading your privacy. Your emotions are _your_ business. If he thinks that he can do something to help, he'll ask for your permission first unless it's a dire emergency."

"My ankle!" Stinky remembered. "When I slipped and twisted my ankle, Arnold said he could do somethin' to take away the pain. He was asking for permission then, wasn't he?"

"He was vague, but that's what he was doing," the psychologist confirmed, nodding her head.

"Does he have some kinda healin' ability in there?"

"Actually, no. He doesn't. However, _I_ have a theory about why your body was encouraged to start healing itself faster. Without the pain distracting it, your body went right to work. As far as it knew, most of the work had been done, so all it had to do was finish up."

"So ma body was tricked inta speedin' up healin' itself?"

"Right."

"Wow!"

"Of course, by taking on your pain…Stinky, isn't it?" At his nod, she continued, "By taking on your pain for so long, he stretched himself to the limits he had at the time. He hadn't really practiced taking away pain, inserting numbness, and walking all at the same time for five minutes nonstop, so he had a reaction migraine. When he pushes himself too far for his current abilities, he'll end up with those migraines."

"So why'd he pass out at school?" Phoebe asked.

"Yeah, when Phoebe asked if he was all right, he collapsed!" Helga shouted.

"He told me all about it. Apparently, because of the migraine he couldn't really focus enough to keep his shielding at its normal strength. He wasted a lot of energy holding up his defenses while at the same time using it to try to heal his migraine. His body took most of that energy away, slowly leaving him defenseless. As time went on, more and more people's emotions kept slipping past his shielding. You didn't know it, Phoebe, but your concern was the emotion that tore down his last bit of shielding. Without that shielding, he was flooded. His mind couldn't cope…"

"…so therefore he fell into unconsciousness since it was too much," the most intelligent girl in the fourth grade finished.

"Precisely."

"That's why I didn't seem as concerned when you came to visit later," Grandpa told the fourth graders. "I had to keep calm. His defenses were down; even a little worry would be agony for him. Especially since he was trying to keep his own pain to himself. It bled every which way since he couldn't really control it. Had to give him a couple of some serious painkillers to knock him out so he could rest and for the relief of everybody. It was easier to just deal with feeling tired than pain."

Phoebe nodded in understanding as the others exchanged looks. "I think I see why someone would want him now."

"Care to explain to the rest of us?" Rhonda snapped.

"Well, if someone could convince him to, Arnold could influence enough people to either support that person or just get out of the way."

Dr. Bliss looked concerned as she nodded in agreement. "Arnold has the potential of being either an enormous help to society…or of being a weapon. With enough practice, he could send out fear so strong that armies would fall at his feet. He could terrify the leaders of different countries into doing what he or whoever ordered him wanted to. The thing is, not even _Arnold_ knows his true limits yet. With practice, he's been able to strongly sense all the emotions of people within a five-mile radius of him. With more practice, I have no doubt that he could stretch his influence with the same intensity over a far wider area."

Nobody said a word until Ernie broke the silence.

"And _that's_ the main reason Arnold kept this a secret."


	11. Meeting Maya

The Secret

By Cybra

**A/N:  Still with me, people?  ^^  I'm _so evil, aren't I?  I just love leavin' ya hangin'!  You'll notice that I'm using the same full name I assigned Arnold in "He's Gone".  The reason is consistency…and "Arnold James Mackintosh Qwilleran" has a certain flow to it.  It's unusual, just like Arnold.  ^^_**

**Additional Note:  I'm going to be gone for two weeks starting Wednesday, June 26th on vacation.  I do not know if I can pull off writing Chapter 12 in such a short period of time and be proud of my work.  I'm just going to hold off on the next chapter so I don't rush and so that I can answer reviews.  Speaking of which, it's time to answer those reviews!**

**Arreiyenne – Thanks for your comments!  ^^  I'll send the "Odds Theory" ASAP.**

**JESS – It's okay that you haven't been able to review.  I ain't mad!  Thanks for reviewing anyway!  ^^**

**Sennical – How long…?  I have no idea.  ^^;;;**

**Irina – Thanks!  But I don't understand that part about "Any clearer and it would be a crystal statue of Arnold!"**

**LM – Thank you!  Thank you!  :::bowing:::**

**Kyra-chan – WEE!  It's nice to hear from ya again!  And thanks!  XDDD**

**Paradoxal Reality – Thanks!  And it's okay that you're a sucker for angst…I love it, too!  And I still haven't seen "Parents Day"!  ;.;**

**hyperkitty – Um, I'm afraid that there is no romance in this fic except for the one-sided romance between Maya and Arnold (one-sided on Maya's side, at least).**

**Disclaimer:  Me Cybra.  Him Craig Barlett.  Him own Hey Arnold!.  Me jealous.**

Chapter 11: Meeting Maya 

Even before he opened his eyes, Arnold knew he wasn't at home.

The feel of the room was completely different.  Warm sunshine or cool moonlight didn't pour down on his face through the skylight.  There wasn't that still-lingering scent of lavender from the candle that had been lit the night before.  Even the _sheets were different.  These sheets weren't made of cotton but some sort of a soft microfiber material._

Besides, his last memory was being injected with something, seeing those two masked men, and then falling unconscious.

He slowly opened his eyes, allowing them to adjust to the artificial lighting that lit the room.  He glanced around as far as his peripheral vision allowed him and saw not a single window in the room.

"That's it.  I'm out of here."

He sat up and was met by a wave of dizziness.  Closing his eyes and brining one hand to his head, he weakly groaned.

"Scratch that.  I'm out of here as soon as whatever they shot me with's out of my system."

As soon as the world seemed to do him a favor and stopped spinning, he reopened his eyes and truly looked around the room for the first time, turning his head to catch what his wide-shaped head had blocked from his peripheral vision.

It was a very large room, far larger than his attic room at home.  From the ceiling hung an elegant (yet unusual) fan/chandelier combination.  The deep mahogany fan blades seemed only to highlight the crystal clear chandelier attached.  The room was painted in a very pale jade green that seemed to melt into the emerald green of the baseboard and carpet.  The colors suited the rest of the room well.

Across from him was a door clearly made with mahogany paneling, intricately carved with different designs in the wood surrounding the door.  To his right and closest to the door was a large entertainment cabinet that was also made from the same dark wood as the desk.  (Arnold guessed that it probably held at _least a stereo system.)  Next to the cabinet was a desk of deep mahogany wood that filled only a quarter of the wall space, a high-powered computer stationed neatly in one corner of the desk.  The closest to his right was a mahogany night table sitting right next to the bed with an elegant lamp whose base appeared to be made of green marble.  The bed itself was also made from hand-carved mahogany and covered in emerald green sheets of the strange material Arnold had only touched once or twice in his life before now._

As Arnold twisted his head, he noticed that to his left was a large dresser made of hand-carved mahogany as well.  Just above the dresser was a large mirror that was surrounded by the same hand-carved mahogany as the rest of the furniture.  Next to the dresser was another door.  A rather large and elegant emerald green couch with a mahogany coffee table took up the rest of the space, just across from the entertainment center.

Slowly, he pushed the coverlet off of him, suddenly self-conscious.  He didn't belong here.  It was far too rich and upscale.  It was more of a museum than a room in his opinion.

Just as he was about to slide off the bed and onto the carpeted floor, someone slowly opened the door.  He froze in shock.

Standing just inside the doorway carrying a tray of food was a young Odd _just like him!_

She was pretty.  Not beautiful.  Pretty.  Her small – almost elfin – body along with her long, waist-reaching black hair helped make up for her physical faults.  Her brown eyes were too close together.  And her skin was a touch too pale, like she didn't really go outside very often.  Her nose was almost a little too large for her small mouth.

She wore a simple dress of an earthy brown that reached down to her ankles.  A pair of flat-heeled shoes of the same color adorned her tiny feet.

If he'd let his imagination go, he could almost imagine her running free in the wild with a unicorn or two, the horned horses attracted by the open air of innocence she was giving off.

Wait.

He paused for a moment, lowering his shields just a bit.

She was leaking her emotions all over the place in a way he _easily recognized._

Not _only was she an Odd…_

…but she was an Empath as well!

She fidgeted under his scrutiny, clearly nervous _without him needing to use his abilities to see._

He gave her a warm smile.  "Sorry about staring.  I'm harmless.  Really."

She giggled, for the first time letting him hear a sample of her voice.

The giggle was light, yet nothing like the bells people would _want to assign to a young girl's laugh.  It wasn't the tinkling of a wind chime or a flute-like sound either.  It was almost like a small trill in the upper ranges of a clarinet, light yet still mellow._

Arnold slid off the bed, landing lightly on the carpet.  "My name is – "

"Arnold James Mackintosh Qwilleran.  I know who you are." she told him, smiling brightly.

"I don't usually introduce myself by my full name, but that'll work."  He gave her a confused look.  "But how did you know?"

"I've been collecting articles on you for a while now."  Her smile turned a bit shy.  "I always thought it was kind of neat that you had two middle names."

"My parents' idea.  That way both sides of my family were well-represented."  He leaned against the bed a little.  "My name was originally supposed to be 'James' but…"

"…'James Arnold Mackintosh Qwilleran' sounds stupid," she finished for him when he trailed off.

"Right.  Besides…"  His eyes took on a mischievous twinkle as he thought of another way to calm her down.  "…how can anybody respect a person whose first three initials spell 'jam'?"

He paused, still smiling warmly, as she giggled.  _'Strange girl.  Never met anyone quite like her.  She's sweet, not sweet like Lila sweet, but still sweet.  It's almost like she's not really experienced in what goes on outside of…wherever we are.'_

When she'd finished, he said politely, "Well, you know who _I am, but I don't have the pleasure of knowing __your name."_

The young girl tried not to giggle at his almost courtly manners.  "My name is Maya McMillan.  No middle name.  Or _names as the case may be."_

_'McMillan…Now why does that__ name sound familiar?'_

"I hate to seem rude, but…where are we?" Arnold asked, deciding to get right to the point.

"We're at my home.  My dad also lives here.  A lot of his workers live here with their families, too."

Something in Arnold's mind clicked.  "Is your father, by any chance, Sean McMillan of McMillan Industries?"

"Yup!" she chirped. "That's my dad!"

Mentally, he reviewed what he knew about the man from newspaper articles in his mind.  _'Sean McMillan.  Founder, president, and CEO of McMillan Industries.  Hires only Odds into his company.  If there isn't a job for an applying Odd, he either finds__ them a job or makes__ them one.  Well-respected among the Odd community.  His workers are – understandably – extremely loyal to their boss.  I think he tried running for Congress last year, but not enough people voted for him.  Didn't know he had a kid.'_

What irritated Arnold was that he couldn't remember _where Sean McMillan lived.  It would've given him a basic idea as to where he was in the city…_

…or even if he _was still in Hillwood._

"Do you like your room?" she asked. "I helped pick out everything.  I was trying to guess what you'd like from the articles…"

"It's very nice," he assured her. "I just wasn't expecting it when I woke up."

_'Now **there's**__ the understatement of the millennia!' part of his mind sneered._

Silently asking that part of his mind to kindly shut up, Arnold told her, "I've never had a room like this before.  It's very beautiful."  Silently, he added,_ 'Though I wish there were a few windows.  Jimminy Christmas, a few days in even a large room like this with no windows would make the most sane person in the world insanely claustrophobic!'_

She blushed at the praise.  "Thank you."  She seemed to notice the way his eyes would dart occasionally to the walls.  "I wanted to give you one of the suites with a nice balcony, but Dad told me not to.  I don't know why."  She turned her attention back to the tray in her hands before she walked over to the couch, sat down, and set the tray down on the coffee table.  "Hungry?"

His stomach shot into his throat, almost making him gag.  "In a few minutes.  Sedatives and I don't get along very well."

Brown eyes blinked innocently.  Then they focused on some point on the floor.  "I'm sorry that those guys did that, but Dad said it was for your own good.  He said that he just didn't want you hurt, and after the first guy scared you, he was worried that you'd hurt yourself trying to get away this time."

Using his abilities to scan for a lie, Arnold quickly realized that she was either telling the truth…or telling what she _thought was the truth._

"Don't worry about it," he advised, walking over to sit next to her. "Anyway, I'm just kinda rambling.  I'm not always totally coherent when I first wake up."

_'Liar,' that same irritating voice in his head whispered._

If he was self-conscious before, he was even more so now that he was sitting next to Maya.  Her dress was made of a material that was never supposed to wrinkle.  _His street clothes were rumpled from having been slept in.  __She was perfectly at home in these rich, classy surroundings.  __He felt like a piece of gutter trash that had been mistakenly brought in._

Thinking of nothing else to say, he glanced down at the breakfast tray.  He nearly sighed with relief when he saw perfectly ordinary eggs sunny-side up, two sausage links, and a perfectly square piece hashbrown casserole on the china plate.  A crystal glass of milk was neatly placed on the tray along with a linen napkin, a silver fork, and a silver knife.

His stomach seemed to immediately lose that earlier queasiness left over from the sedative and demanded to be fed.  If he remembered correctly, he hadn't eaten since noon yesterday.  If he'd had dinner, he didn't remember it.

Maya laughed as she heard his stomach growl.  "Eat up!  I'm supposed to tell you the house rules while you're eating anyway."

"Thanks," he said just before he started attacking the eggs, barely managing to save himself from looking like a starved animal.

If she noticed that he was eating a little faster than normal people usually ate, she didn't comment.  "Dad says that you can go anywhere you want as long as you have an escort.  He doesn't want you getting lost and there are certain areas you're not allowed to go in.  If you don't mind, I'll lead you around.  I'm not allowed to go in those same places of the building."  At his confused nod, she continued, "There's no phone in here even though there are wall plugs for phones.  You have a link-up to the Internet, but you can't get into e-mail, instant messaging, or message boards.  Sorry."

_'Blast!  There went my chances at communicating with the outside world!'_

"Other than that, it's mainly straightforward basic rules.  Like, no sliding down the staircases, no rollerblading indoors.  You know.  Basic stuff.  You shouldn't have any problems."

"Once I get the feel of this place, am I allowed to wander off by myself?" the boy asked after swallowing a bite of sausage.

"Uh…I dunno.  We'll have to ask Dad sometime."

He swallowed a bit of the hashbrown casserole before asking, "Why aren't we allowed to go in certain rooms?"

"Company stuff.  And lots of it."

'Aha!  That's right!  Sean McMillan's corporate headquarters doubles as a housing facility for himself and, apparently, his workers!  That's just outside of Hillwood!'

"Where else can we go?"

"Well, there's the library, the indoor pool, the garden on the roof, the outdoor pool on the roof…Lots of places.  On the whole, it's a very small section that we're not allowed to go in."

Suddenly, Arnold realized something.  "Uh, Maya?  This is all the clothing I have."

"Don't worry about it!  One of the maids bought you some new clothes.  They're in the drawer.  If something doesn't fit, just tell one of the maids, and they'll exchange it out.  They're really nice.  They'll be the ones cleaning the sheets and everything."

"Oh."

"I almost forgot!"  She pointed to the door between the couch and the dresser.  "That leads to your own private bathroom.  The maids clean that, too."

The words "private bathroom" almost blew him away.  He couldn't remember a time in his life where he didn't have to share a bathroom.  This would be a nice change.

Having heard all that she needed to tell him, he listened to her chatter as he continued his breakfast.

~@~

Sean McMillan could hardly believe his dumb luck.

Not only was Arnold an Odd; not only was he a Level 5 Empath…

…Arnold was also the same boy his daughter had become infatuated with through newspaper reports.

He smiled to himself as he continued signing papers in his office.

Empathic ability didn't really run in families.  When the right sequence of genes was present, you had an Empath.  If the basic sequence wasn't exactly correct, no Empath.

And right there in the same building was a matched set of the same age.

True, Maya was only a weak Level 1, but it didn't matter.  The sequence of genes was there.

And in Arnold, the sequence of genes was perfect.

McMillan was positive that that was the reason Arnold had started out as a Level 5.

And if that sequence could be passed on…

The leader of McMillan Industries smiled.

The pair was only nine, and Arnold truly didn't know Maya yet…

…but there was a chance that the future McMillan had in mind would continue in future generations.

McMillan reached out and picked up a glass of water, holding it slightly raised in a private toast to his daughter.  "May you gain your heart's desire, Maya."

He swallowed a sip from the glass, set it down, and returned to his paperwork, still smiling.


	12. A Friend and Ally

The Secret

By Cybra

**A/N:  It's been a while, I know.  And I'm sorry.  Vacations and the start of senior year have kept me from my keyboard for all but the shortest of one-shots.  So here it is, at last, Chapter 12 of "The Secret"!  Also, "Orangejello" and "Lemonjello" are _real!  There is really a pair of twins out there with those names!_**

**Arana Mai – Thanks for the review!  ^^  Glad you like it!  And I _love The Wrath of Khan!  And "The Wrath of Scheck" was a pretty good spoof!  ^^_**

**rookee alding – :::blink:::  You read all eleven chapters until 1 in the morning?!  I'm impressed!  And I'm glad you like it!**

**brianaluvsfutballhead – I've said this before, and I'll say it again.  No, Arnold and Maya are _not getting together.  It's an entirely one-sided thing.  She likes him, but he thinks of her as a friend or maybe a sister.  And, no, Arnold does __not know Helga's little secret.  ^^  That help?_**

**Houkanno Yuuhou – I'm tricky, aren't I?  ^.-  There will be a little bit in another chapter or two where Arnold gets a _small inkling as to Helga's emotion.  And thanks for reviewing!_**

**Paradoxal Reality – Yay!  I'm devious!  :::dancedance!:::  And neat puzzle analogy!  I never thought of this story that way!  ^^**

**Capt. Corran Horn Jedi Knight – Sorry it took so long!  Like I said, vacations and senior year are _evil!  And although I know you'd like to see some romance happening (a Helga/Arnold fan, I presume), there won't be any.  I don't think I could write it tastefully and not sounding cliché, especially in this situation._**

**Miss Matched – Don't take my talent!  I _need it!  :::re-reads review:::  You __married it?!  :::shiver:::  I'm afraid.  ^^  Just kidding!  I'm glad you like the story!_**

**Irina – I think I understand what you meant now.  Thanks for trying to explain it!  ^^  And thanks for reviewing!**

**selement – As I told brianaluvsfutballhead, the romance between Arnold and Maya is one-sided on _Maya's side.  And as far as being mean in cutting off Arnold to the outside world, the kidnappers would __have to do that.  After all, if Arnold could send an e-mail or something, it kinda defeats the purpose of capturing him since someone could rescue him._**

**Angela Maxwell-chan – Ooh!  I hooked a Gundam Wing fan!  ^^  And, yeah, now that I think about it, Arnold's ability _does remind me of Quatre's…though it's not quite the same thing.  ^^  Glad you enjoyed it!_**

**Disclaimer:  Although Hey Arnold! isn't mine, the basic story idea and plot of "The Secret" is _mine!  All mine!  No one else's!  They can't take it away from me!_**

Chapter 12: A Friend and Ally 

Arnold paced the room he'd been given.  After attempting to read one of the many books he'd picked up from the building's library, he found he couldn't sit still anymore.

It had been four days since his kidnapping, and Maya _still hadn't finished showing him the __interior of the building he now resided in.  The size of the building was intimidating and unnerving, and, as time went on, he was starting to become restless._

There was a skylight in Arnold's room at the boardinghouse for a reason: he hated being caged up.  As long as he could see the sky, he felt fine.  It meant that there was always some way out.

However, _this room had no windows at all.  The brief glimpses of sky he saw through windows he passed through didn't reassure him in the least bit.  It meant that there wasn't much of a chance for escape…_

That is, if there was any chance at all.  The guards carried guns that Arnold had long ago suspected were _not standard Security-issue._

Still, this didn't mean that Arnold was simply going to sit back and let whatever happened to him happen to him.  That was Arnie's way of dealing with things, not his.  Carefully, he probed everyone he saw, getting the feel for them, getting to know how easy or difficult it would be to influence them.  He practiced every night, strengthening his own abilities as quickly as possible while trying _not to be suspicious.  Each time, he silently thanked Dr. Bliss for setting up that experiment that allowed him to "hide" while he was influencing someone._

So every day, he waited for the perfect opportunity.  Nothing went unnoticed as far as he was concerned.

He _would escape…_

…or he'd die trying.

A soft knock at the door ceased his pacing and pulled him away from his thoughts.  His ears told him it wasn't Maya.  He'd come to know that her knocking had a definite pattern, whether she realized it or not.

"Come in," he called, turning to face the door.

An old man opened the door and stood in the doorway.  His old gray eyes smiled from behind drooping white bangs at the boy standing before him.  The cracked lips in the wrinkled face echoed the smile in his eyes.  It took Arnold a moment to recognize the face as belonging to one of the janitors.

"I hope you don't mind my interrupting, but Maya asked that I show you around a bit.  Her father wanted to talk with her."

Arnold smiled back at the old man, grateful to be out of his "cage".  He walked quickly over to the old man and past the guard standing there.

The pair walked briskly down the corridor, the old man moving with a swiftness that would've surprised most but not Arnold.  (Arnold's grandparents were in excellent shape and could move just as fast as the old man.)

"Thank you, Mister…?"

"Jenkins.  Joe Jenkins."  At Arnold's surprised look, he chuckled softly.  "My parents had a strange sense of humor."

"At least they weren't as bad as some people," the blonde boy commented. "I heard about a set of twins named 'Orangejello' and 'Lemonjello'.  They were named after their mother's favorite Jell-O flavors."

"You have _got to be kidding me."_

"No, sir.  They actually went to my school for a while."

The white-haired man shook his head.  "I pity those twins.  They'll be picked on every day of their lives.  If I were them, I'd change my name as soon as I turned eighteen."

"I think they're planning on it, Mr. Jenkins."

"Call me 'Joe'."

The pair entered an elevator that quickly carried them to the roof.  Arnold half-closed one eye in a farce raised eyebrow.  As the elevator door opened to the roof, Arnold paused for a moment to savor it.

The sky had never seemed so blue nor the clouds so white to Arnold.  An elegant garden had been laid-out on the roof that included cobblestone paths to lead someone through the garden without harming the flowers and a small stream and waterfall.

Joe watched as the boy stepped out of the elevator, eyes closed in bliss.  Yes, taking him up here was good for more than the reason he'd brought him here for.

The old janitor hadn't seen very much of the boy, but he had liked what he saw.  Arnold treated the hired help graciously and didn't make trouble.  Plus he made Maya happy.  Not only did he talk with her even between tours, he also was teaching her to develop her own mental shields before he began working with her to help strengthen her own empathic ability.

"Let's take a look over the city," Joe suggested.

Arnold didn't answer verbally, simply nodding and following Joe, taking in the sights and scents of the garden around him.

Seeing the city again brought forth a pain of homesickness.  He stiffened and gazed sadly at Hillwood, knowing that amongst _those tall buildings stood the relatively small Sunset Arms boardinghouse, his home.  Then, using the control he was infamous around PS118 for, he shoved the homesickness to the back of his mind in order to clear it, his posture becoming easy and calm._

"I thought I wasn't going to see the garden for another week, Joe," the blonde told the janitor.

"I had a feeling it'd do you some good.  I know that as a boy I hated bein' cooped up for too long."  Joe turned to look at Arnold.  "But the other reason is that I need to talk to you, and the cameras are few here and don't have those cursed microphones because of the noises the wind and everything make."

Green eyes widened for a moment before he half-closed them in a neutral look as he looked around slowly.  His own room had a few cameras except in his bathroom where he both bathed and changed.  He had located them one by one, noting them for future reference.  Here, he couldn't see a single camera.

"I don't see one."

"They're even less obvious here than they are in the buildings.  Still, there are a few patches without any cameras at all.  We're standing in one of them."  He paused.  "We may have to occasionally walk into a camera's visual range just so the guards don't come up here and ask questions."

"That'll work.  What do you have to tell me?"

"I'll get right to the point.  Something's been brewing around here ever since Mrs. McMillan died six and a half years ago."

"What happened to her?"

Joe sighed.  "She and Maya were caught in the middle of a hate crime.  Mrs. McMillan was takin' young Maya out for a walk in the city from one of her husband's buildings when there was an explosion.  The building had been bombed by a group against us Odds.  Maya got out with a few scratches and bruises plus a broken arm.  Mrs. McMillan…she wasn't so lucky."

Arnold looked out at the city, vague memories of his grandparents explaining what the big _boom had been to his two and a half year-old self flitting through his mind._

"Mr. McMillan went half-mad with grief.  He wouldn't eat and he wouldn't sleep.  Then something changed.  It seemed like something had been triggered in his head.  He started eating and sleeping again, so everyone thought that he must've remembered he had his daughter to live for."  Joe shivered as he motioned for Arnold to follow him.  "Then he started hiring these strange guards."

The blonde boy followed Joe in a walk across the garden, noticing that Joe was deliberately taking certain paths over others.  (It was most likely that Joe wanted to make it look like a casual stroll through the garden to anyone watching through the cameras.)  When he looked down over the edge of the roof, his eyes widened as he saw a whole practice area the Army would've been jealous of.

"They train like they're some kind of army," Joe said unnecessarily. "Give me and most everyone else the creeps.  The old security guards were reassigned to other buildings."  He shivered again.  "It's like this place has become some kinda fortress."

"You may not be too far off," Arnold grimly agreed. "I got the same impression from those creeps."

Joe paused as if considering something before saying, "I know you probably don't believe me.  After all I _do work for the guy who kidnapped you…"_

The green-eyed boy smiled up at the old man.  "I believe you.  I know you aren't lying."

The gray-eyed man sighed with relief.  He had been worried that Arnold wouldn't take his words to heart.

Obviously, he need not have worried.  All Arnold had to do was do a quick scan of his emotions to check for lies.

"Joe, I need to ask you a few questions.  Can you answer them for me?"

"I'll do my best."

"Okay, what's the easiest way to get out of here?"

"I hate to tell you this, but it's actually through the front door.  I have no doubt that those trigger-happy lunatics'll try to shoot whoever is going out the wrong door for their job.  And even when they leave through the _right door – like the deliverymen or something – the guards're always watching."_

Arnold sighed.  "Figures."  He paused before asking, "Do _you live here?"_

"I used to, but I've earned more than enough from Mr. McMillan to get my own apartment as close as I could so I could drive to work."  Grinning, he stated, "There are certain perks to workin' for Mr. McMillan, I admit.  He pays us well.  That never changed."

Arnold didn't have to ask _why that was important to Joe.  He'd heard of far too many lawsuits due to racial discrimination.  Despite laws, many minority groups – Odds not excluded – and women were paid less than a white non-Odd male._

The blonde boy paused, watching as a group of guards fought their way through an obstacle course.  "It's almost like they're getting ready for a war," he quietly noted to himself.  Shaking his head to clear it, he asked, "Do you think you could deliver messages for me?"

Joe paused before answering, "I don't know.  I mean, the guards don't frisk us, so I guess it _could be done…"_

A sigh came from Arnold.  "It's all right if you won't."

"Now wait a minute, Arnold, I didn't say I _wouldn't," Joe told him. "I'm just saying that I won't be able to do it very often."_

Joe using Arnold's name hadn't surprised him in the least.  After all, most of the staff had quickly learned his name.  Still, he felt delightfully surprised to hear himself addressed in a familiar fashion rather than as "Mr. Qwilleran" by most of the staff.

However, he was even _more surprised that Joe would be willing to help him do something that might risk the janitor's own neck.  "You'd really do it?"_

The old man nodded his head, smiling slightly.  "I don't like the idea of kidnapping anyway.  Besides, you're a good kid.  I don't know what Mr. McMillan's up to, but I've got a feeling it's not good."

There was a gunshot from below them.  Both jumped and stared down at the group of security guards.

One of them had been having a little target practice on a paper target designed to look like a non-Odd man.  The shooter pumped his fist in the air in triumph as his comrades slapped him on the back for his excellent shot.

Neither Arnold nor Joe believed that the shot had missed the bull's eye on the head.


	13. Meeting McMillan and Urgent Message

The Secret

By Cybra

**A/N:  I know, I know.  "What have you been doing for two months?!"  Well, I've been in the planning stages.  This chapter is one of the critical points in my story.  I had to plan it very carefully.  Hopefully, this shall appease you people.**

**Michelle – Sorry it took me so long, but here's the next chapter!  You like?  ^.-**

**Almaseti – O.O!!!  You read it all in one day?!  Wow!  That's no small feat!  I hope you like this chapter!**

**Paradoxal Reality – Thanks!  And I haven't read Firestarter.  There's a Joe in it?  @.@  Talk about coincidences…**

**Eve4000 – I tried!  Sorry!  I didn't want to screw this part up!**

**Capt.Coran Horn Jedi King – Oooookaaaaay…**

**JESS – No need for apologies!  Sorry I took so long to update!**

**purplepincushion – Lord of the Rings is cool!  ^^**

**Irina – I thought so.  ^^**

**Briana luvsfutballhead(and Phebga!) – You're right on the money, you two!  This thing _does have a theme about racism!_**

**Arana Mai – A fanfic for my fanfic?  :::HUGE ego boost!:::  Maybe I should take longer between chapters…I wouldn't mind that kind of thing!  ^.-  Just kidding!**

**TADAH – Sorry it took so long!  And thanks!**

**Sennical – I thank you and Joe the janitor thanks you!  Say "hi", Joe!  :::Joe waves:::**

**Maxine – Hooked another one!  :::reels in Maxine like a fish:::  ^.-  Sorry it took so long!  And thanks!**

**Miss Matched – Sorry to hear about the divorce…Yeah…@.@  Anyway, thanks for the review!**

**Disclaimer:  I have never and will never be known as "Craig Barlett"…especially since I'm a girl.  ^^;;;  In any case, Hey Arnold! isn't mine.**

Chapter 13: Meeting McMillan and Urgent Message 

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Arnold," Sean McMillan told his "guest". "I trust that your stay has been comfortable?"

Arnold carefully studied the man before him.  _'So he doesn't want to come right out and say why I'm here, huh?  Fine.  I'll play his game.  For now.'  "Yes, sir."  __'Except for being monitored practically my every waking and sleeping moment!'_

"Good, good.  How are things between you and Maya?"

Arnold narrowed his eyes ever so slightly though not enough to be noticeable.  _'He seems very interested about what's going on between me and Maya.  Why is that?'  "Going pretty well."_

The Odd man discretely studied the boy seated before him.  He had to be careful.  He held no delusions that the Level 5 Empath was totally trusting of him.  After all, nobody took very kindly to being kidnapped.

Still, he had his Level 5 Empath that that fool Dr. Pollock had tried to hide from him for all these years.  The other two children that Dr. Pollock had hidden were a mystery to him, but the strongest of the three "subjects" now sat right before him.  All he had to do was earn Arnold's trust.

"Excellent!" McMillan told him, smiling easily. "My daughter has been wanting to meet you for some time, you know."  He chuckled.  "You could say she's one of your biggest fans."

Arnold mentally cursed himself for the modest blush that crossed his features.  It was a natural reaction that no one could stop, but he still hated it in this instance.  Now was _not a good time!  Carefully, he said, deciding that maybe modesty might throw off McMillan, "I'm afraid I don't see why.  I'm just your average kid."_

McMillan paused briefly but he train of thought wasn't disrupted for long.  "Nonsense!  How many boys do _you know stopped a major corporation from tearing down a large portion of downtown?  Or how many boys do you know who encouraged a writer to write her first book in ten years?  Or how many boys do you know who saved the career of a famous singer?"_

"I had help with Scheck," the blonde boy said simply. "A lot of help."

"But who was the one who came up with the idea to stop Scheck?" McMillan asked pointedly.

A beat of silence.  "I was…"

"Exactly!  So there is good reason that my Maya would take interest in you, isn't there?"

The Empath paused for a moment.  _'Maya's more than just interested in me.  Before I helped her build up those mental shields of hers, she was leaking affection all over the – Wait.  Is that it?  McMillan's so interested in how the two of us get along because of that?'  His eyes widened imperceptibly.  __'Oh my…It has to be!  It must be too perfect!  He now has a male Empath and a female Empath under the same roof!  Whatever he's planning to do with me, he's hoping that Maya's affections will rub off on me so that in the future…!'_

Arnold didn't want to think about the future.  The possibilities were too many at this point in time.

McMillan waited patiently for his young "guest" to speak.

"…I guess she does after all…" Arnold slowly agreed.

The head of McMillan Industries did his best not to smirk or look _too triumphant, easily succeeding.  Being the CEO of a major company gave him plenty of practice.  "Well, then I guess you __aren't so average."_

"Guess not," Arnold reluctantly affirmed.

There were a few moments of silence before Arnold finally dared ask, "Why did you have me brought here?"

McMillan didn't even flinch, and Arnold mentally cursed him for remaining so in control.  "Arnold, I'm going to tell you this straight out: You're very fortunate to live where you do."  He stood from his chair and paced the floor.  "You have people who respect and care for you in your neighborhood, and not one of them is an Odd like yourself.  Very few Odd children have that experience.

"However, I can't help noticing that more and more people have been moving into your neighborhood as others move out.  Quite a bit of these people don't seem to have that easy acceptance that your other neighbors do, do they?"

Arnold involuntarily flinched, remembering the incident at Mr. Green's butcher shop from last week.

"I felt the need to pull you out of that before things became so bad that you had to suffer the same fate as other Odd children: total rejection due to what you look like.  It's a crime."

"I think I don't have to tell you that I agree that hatred based upon race or color is a crime," Arnold stated, wondering where this conversation was heading.

"Of course you don't, but it's good to hear it anyway."  McMillan neatly folded his hands behind his back.  "Also, I had the feeling you would be further alienated if word about your…abilities…got out."

"You knew before you took me about that," Arnold accused. "How?"

McMillan _appeared genuinely surprised that Arnold knew but the younger Odd's Empath abilities told him otherwise._

'You're a good actor, McMillan.  If I wasn't an Empath, you'd have convinced me.  But since meeting up with people like Olga Pataki's former fiancé, I've gotten a little shrewder.'

"I thought you knew!  I provided the funding for Dr. Jay Pollock's research.  I was very interested in his ideas."

_'Okay.  You provided funding for Dr. Pollock.  Why?'  "Why'd you risk doing that?  I mean, most people thought he was crazy."_

"True, true, but I thought the idea valid.  I mean, if we have some proof of ESP and telekinesis, why not Empathic ability?"

'You're good.  I can't use that against you when I get out of here.  You've got me in a hole.'

McMillan leaned forward, a little eagerness in his eyes.  "But there was another reason for me bringing you here."

'Letting the cat out of the bag now?  Nice style.  Got me agreeing to everything so far.  If I didn't know that trick, I'd probably be agreeing to whatever you wanted me to do and follow you blindly.  Heh.  I never knew that going against Wolfgang and all those other guys would give me practice for this sort of thing!'

"What is it?" Arnold asked with all the innocence he could muster.

McMillan studied him for a moment, not sure if he had Arnold completely caught in his web yet.  At the same time, he didn't notice Arnold's own web tightening around him.  "I need you to help me help others like us."

That statement threw off Arnold.  His thoughts made a temporary train wreck.  "Excuse me?"

"I need you to help me help other Odds.  I've been doing my best by giving others like us jobs, but I need help in fixing this world to be more fair to those like us."

'That's it?  That's what all this mess is about?  Cheese and rice, why didn't he say that in the first place?!'

"Why didn't you just say so?  You know, send a note or something?"

"My methods are a little more…unconventional.  It wouldn't due to have made it known to others."

'What the heck is that supposed to mean?  Unless…'  His heart skipped a beat.  'Please, oh please, oh please, oh **please don't tell me what I think you're planning on doing is going to happen!'**

"Are your security people part of that plan?" he asked, trying not to sound too worried.

McMillan studied him for another long moment before answering, "Yes, they are.  Actually, they're a large part of it."

'Oh my…He **is planning what I think he is!  McMillan, you idiot!  What you're planning will ****not bring back your wife and it ****will bring misery to Odds and non-Odds alike!  Odds are a minority!  We'd never be able to keep the kind of control you're thinking of!'  He bit his tongue so he wouldn't scream as the exact reason for his being here became apparent.  'Cheese and rice!  I don't know how strong my abilities could be!  For all I know, ****I could be able to hold masses of people under his thumb!  ****That's how he'd retain control!  ****Me!  And if Maya and I did happen to marry and have kids…!  And if the ability could be passed on…!'**

As McMillan's plan became clearer, Arnold became more and more sick to his stomach.

'I have to warn somebody!  Joe!  I could write a letter and send it through Joe!  Oh, man…'

"Are you all right?" McMillan asked, suddenly wary.

"I don't feel so good," Arnold said honestly. "I think lunch is catching up to me."  He gave a weak smile.  "Food's a little too rich for me."

It was a good lie.  After all, Arnold had told Maya on several occasions that the richer foods that were served made him sick to his stomach.  He simply wasn't used to it.

"Oh."  McMillan sat back down in his chair.  "I'm sorry.  I'll tell the head chef to go a little easier on that."

"Thanks."

"Why don't you go back to your room and lie down, hmm?"

"Thank you, sir."

Arnold shakily stood and hurried out the door, swaying slightly as he kept his stomach from releasing its contents all over the plush carpeting.

~@~

"Thanks for coming," Arnold told his janitor friend. "The pipe's really messed up.  I'm not sure what's wrong with it."

Arnold had waited for two hours before he implemented his plan.  During those two hours, he had spent most of it sleeping and easing the nauseous sensation he had gained from his conversation with McMillan.  The rest of it he had spent preparing for Joe's arrival and writing a letter, appearing for all the world like he was simply writing a journal entry in the notebook he had found a few days ago.  (He had been keeping a journal for the sole reason of giving him an excuse to write something down if he ever figured out how to get a message to the outside world.)

"Not a problem," Joe told his young friend, leading the way to the bathroom. "Pipes are one of my specialties."

As soon as they were inside the bathroom and the door was closed, Arnold sagged against the door.  Speaking just loudly and clearly enough for the microphone outside the bathroom to pick it up, he said, "The pipe under the sink's got some sort of leak."

Joe did the same as he whistled, looking under the sink at the very leaky pipe.  "Looks that way.  It'll take me a little bit."

"Okay.  Can I watch?  You know, that way I can fix it myself the next time something like this happens?  I hate to bother you…"

"Oh, it's no bother!  I get paid to do stuff like this!  And you can watch if you like!"

The improvised script finished, the janitor went to work.  The sound of his tools would be loud enough to cover their voices as they spoke in low tones, low enough that the microphone couldn't pick it up.

It was obvious to anyone with Joe's plumbing experience that the pipe had been tampered with.  To anyone who didn't have that experience, it looked as though the pipe had been on its last leg and had finally given up.

"Nice piece of work you did here," Joe commented.

Arnold gave a quiet snort of disgust.  "Thanks.  Jeez, it was almost too easy.  Nobody even thought to doubt me."  He rolled his eyes.  "I did some plumbing work while at the boardinghouse to help my grandpa out.  I could fix a little leak like that myself."

The grizzled janitor chuckled.  "Of that I have no doubts.  What'd you really need me for?"

Arnold handed him the carefully folded up piece of paper.  "I need you to get this to my grandpa.  It's an absolute emergency."  He gave Joe a pathetic look.  "Can you help me?"

Joe reached for the note and slid it into the space between the rubber sole of his left shoe and where the cloth part of the shoe began.  "Nobody will think to look for anything here."  He suddenly looked worried.  "What's wrong?"

"I'm going to try to make my escape.  That note is to tell my grandparents where I am if I fail."

The old man could tell by the look in Arnold's eyes that there was something more to that note than a simple relay of location, but he didn't press the issue.

"I'll get it through.  I promise.  And I'll come back and help you."

"But I can't let you do that!" Arnold quietly protested.

"Yes, you can.  I'd be terribly disappointed in myself if I didn't help you in any way I could."

After a few moments of silence, Arnold whispered, "Thanks, Joe."

"Anytime."

~@~

Phil opened the door to see a wizened old Odd standing on his doorstep.  "Can I help you?"

"This is for you," the man said slipping a piece of paper into his hand. "From your grandson."

Grandpa froze in stupefied amazement as the Odd turned to go.

The man froze for a moment, then turned his head.  "And I just want to say, Phil, that your grandson is one of the most amazing people I've ever met."

The man quickly left, turning a few corners and vanishing from view.

Phil walked inside and slowly closed the door.

"What is it, Gramps?" Ernie asked.

All of Arnold's friends were there along with Dr. Bliss, all waiting for updates on the search just like they were.

"It's a note…from Arnold," Phil answered, still in shock.

There was an immediate clamor of "Open it!" and "Read it!" and "I can't believe it!" from the children and members of the boardinghouse "family".

Phil opened the note and read it aloud.

"Dear Grandpa, Grandma, and the boarders,

                "If my friend Joe agrees to carry this note, I have to make it small.  I'm sorry, but if he's caught with it, I shudder to think what those guards will do to him.

"I am currently held at the McMillan Industries building outside of Hillwood.  The reason Mr. McMillan had me kidnapped is my worst nightmare come true.

"I shall be attempting to escape tonight.  If I succeed, then I have to immediately go to the police in order to stop McMillan.  If I fail, then I will never see all of you again.  For if I fail, I may never get an opportunity to escape again and will have to use my 'final solution'.

                "I love you all,

                                "~Arnold"

The members of the Sunset Arms boardinghouse were silent.

Finally, Gerald dared ask the question on every child's lips.

"What's this 'final solution' of his?"

Phil turned slowly to his grandson's best friend.

His words froze the blood in the children's and the child psychologist's veins.

"He'll kill himself."


	14. Rescue Attempt

The Secret

By Cybra

**A/N:  We're entering the final chapters of our story, folks!  Then I shall be posting a few things before my next big series!  Yippie skippie!  :::rolls eyes at her own dorkiness:::**

**Briana LuvsFBH – No, Maya definitely doesn't have a clue.  Joe has only vague ideas about what's going on, but he's on Arnold's side.  Also, I finished "He's Gone"!  You like?  :)**

**Dark Memory – Hmm…Interesting idea.  Maybe I'll do an alternate ending, I dunno.  I'll think about it!  ^^  Thanks for the idea!**

**Arana Mai – Don't give yourself a hernia!  Hernias are _bad!_**

**Almaseti – Of course I mentioned you!  How could I not?  I always try to answer people who have questions or statements other than simply "great job"!  ;)  And, yes, Arnold _did say something about his "final solution" before in the past._**

**rookee alding – Sorry, but while Helga _is a part of the story, the story's on Arnold.  Not her.  She has to step out of the spotlight.  Sorry, man._**

**The J.A.M. – What the heck's an "endoslung"?!  Anyway, thanks!**

**Jaha Canon – Welcome to the club of impatient people!  :::laughs:::**

**kitkatkidd2004 – Leaving you on the edge of your seat, eh?  I must be doing my job, then!  ^^**

**joe mama – As I've mentioned before, no Helga is _not one of the three Empaths.  The other two are a pair of unknown kids known only by their names of "Mary" and "Steve"._**

**Disclaimer:  Question.  If Hey Arnold! wasn't mine _before, what makes you think it's mine __now?!_**

Chapter 14: Rescue Attempt

**"Kill himself?!" shrieked Rhonda, asking the question no one dared ask.**

Dr. Bliss stared at the blonde boy's grandfather, not wanting to believe what she heard.  Or was she not wanting to believe that an observation she had made about him was right?  "He's suicidal?"

Phil looked down at the letter, trying his best not to lose control.  "Only if it'll help someone.  Believes strongly in that 'needs of the many' stuff, like in that Star Trek movie."  He put a hand to his forehead.  "Cheezits, I didn't want to believe him when he first said told me about his 'final solution'."

"He's talked about this before?" Dr. Bliss pressed, still a bit in shock that someone Arnold's age could even bring himself to think about ending his own life.

"Oh, yes.  He read in one of my books on World War II about the military strategy of destroying a weapon before it fell into enemy hands.  That was a year and a half ago."  Arnold's grandpa shivered as if the room's temperature lurked somewhere below zero.  "Made me proud when he told me that he'd figured out a plan to stop someone from using him like a weapon but scared me to death when he told me his plan.  He called it his 'final solution', a very last resort if nothing else could be done."

"So we rescue him," Gertie broke in, rushing to the hall closet. "We'll save our comrade if it's the last thing we do!"

Everyone gaped as she closed herself into the closet, then leaped out a few minutes later in full guerrilla uniform.

"Who's with me?!" the crazy yet brave woman called.

"I'm with ya, Pookie!" Grandpa threw in.

Mr. Potts and Mr. Hyunh were next, valiantly volunteering to go to the aid of the youngest member of their strange family.

Suzie shook her head.  "I'll stay here and call the police.  That way if something goes wrong, you all have some sort of backup."

Dr. Bliss nodded her head in agreement.  "I'd be pretty much useless on the front line, so I guess I'll stay here with Suzie."

"And I shall stay as well," Oskar said. "To…uh…_protect them!  Eh heh heh!"_

Despite the dirty looks the three other men gave the man, there was no reaction to Oskar's statement.

"I'm goin', too," Helga stated, stepping forward.

"If my buddy's in trouble, I'm there," Gerald announced, stepping forward next to Helga.

Even Phoebe stepped forward.  "Perhaps I can help us break in or something.  I know a few things about alarms."

"No way!  Not you kids!" Ernie protested.

"The loony's right," Phil agreed. "We can't put you kids in danger."

"You'll need our help.  Four of you versus an entire building full of people who are most likely willing to kill those who try to get in the way are not very good odds," Phoebe logically pointed out.

"And the more people helpin' Arnold get out, the better," Stinky agreed, crossing his arms and stepping forward next to Phoebe.

The adults gaped at the children before them.

"I can't go," Rhonda whispered quietly. "As much as I'd like to, I'm not going to be of any help.  I don't know anything about fighting or alarms or anything."

"Same here," Nadine agreed.

Other than the four standing defiantly in front of the adults, the rest of the children agreed with Rhonda.  They, too, had nothing to offer even though they would if they could.

Phil stared for a little longer before sighing.  "I just hope we don't regret this."

~@~

Arnold never thought that escape could be so ridiculously easy.

Over the past few nights, he had been carefully planning an escape route.  While feigning sleep, he had reached out and invisibly touched the minds of the guards (or rather, soldiers) that resided there.  He had carefully wrapped a web of fear loosely around their minds, allowing him to simply "yank" on the web in order to snap it over the minds of his enemies and bring crippling fear to the hearts and minds of the soldiers.

The best part was that since most of the work was finished, it took very little energy to get it done.  His resources – carefully trained under Dr. Bliss' and the boardinghouse members' careful eyes – remained mostly full.  In the event of trouble, he would be able to draw on an ample amount of power.

He and Joe walked past a guard who had curled up into a small ball on the floor, whimpering pathetically about how spiders were overrunning the place.  The guard would see and hear nothing but the fear that held him petrified to the spot, his mind playing tricks on him due to the fear.

Ordinarily, Arnold would've felt guilty for doing such a cruel thing.  He didn't know how long the fear would hold this man or the others to their spots or what effects it may have on them in the future.  Still, however difficult it was, Arnold had hardened his heart and focused on the task at hand: escape.  This same man who lay curled up in a fetal position would've prevented his escape.

And escape was vastly more important than a guilty conscience.

Especially when the threat of civil war lay on the horizon.

_'We should've run into trouble by now,' Arnold fretted for the fifth time in thirty seconds. __'This is too easy.  True, they weren't expecting it, but it's too easy.  It's like I'm being handed my escape on a silver platter.'_

And if there was only one thing he had learned from his grandpa, it was "never trust a silver platter".

That's when the obstacle came walking towards him.

"Arnold?" the McMillan girl asked.  Before he could respond, Maya stared at the guard lying curled up on the floor.  She kneeled toward him, eyes wide with horror. "What happened to him?!"

"I had to do it, Maya," Arnold stated, glancing at Joe who nodded and turned to make sure no one snuck up from behind them.

Maya had never truly experienced life outside of the building she called home.  Concepts that would've made sense to anyone who lived in the real world (like using whatever advantages you had to overcome the other guy) didn't register with her.  She had been shielded for most of her life from the unpleasantness of the outside world.

Therefore, she didn't understand why Arnold thought he had to emotionally attack anyone.

"Why?!" she demanded, staring at the boy she admired so much.  She looked pleadingly at Joe. "And why are you helping him?!"

She turned her foot as if going to go rush for help, but Arnold quickly covered the distance between the two of them.  He grabbed her shoulders as she tried to squirm away.

He forced her to look him in the eye, her eyes wide with fear as if afraid he had gone mad and would harm her.  "Because your father is planning to do something incredibly stupid that will get a lot of people killed."  When she tried again to pull away, he kept a firm grip on her.  "Don't you think the whole situation's a little too strange, Maya?  These men train like they're part of an army, your dad's willing to kidnap me who happens to be a Level 5, and you're a Level 1."

"Stop it!" she whimpered, closing her eyes and shaking her head as if to rid her mind of his voice.

But Arnold pressed on.  It was time for her to face the facts.  She didn't deserve to live in the dark anymore.

"And the two of us are a matched set of Odd Empaths.  If your father's plan succeeds, he needs something to back him when he takes control.  What better way than Empath-induced terror?"

'Stop it!"

"And how else could he ensure that future generations would still have a minority ruling the majority than by making sure he had _two Empaths, one male and one female?"_

"Stop it, please!"

Here he shook her, making her open her innocent brown eyes to look into his intense and more worldly knowledgeable green ones.  "It's like a _breeding program, Maya!  It's too perfect!  If the two of us grew up, got married, and had kids, what would happen if Empathy could be passed on, hmm?  Then our children could be used to maintain control long after you and I are dead.  Then if they can find other Odd Empaths for husbands or wives, the whole cycle continues again."_

"He wouldn't!"

"He's doing it _now, Maya!  I hate to do this to you, but it's time you wake up and take a good look at the evidence all around you!"_

An alarm went off.  Joe spun around to face the two children.  Arnold jerked in surprise and almost released his prisoner, but Maya didn't notice as what Arnold told her sank in.

She didn't want to believe it…

…but Arnold's eyes told her that he was not lying and had not gone insane.

The guard's radio crackled to life.

"Thompson!  We have intruders in Sector 5!  Requesting backup!  Over!"

Joe raised his eyebrows and leaned down to grab the radio.  He did his best imitation of the clipped voice of a well-trained soldier.  "Thompson here!  I'll be there shortly!  Over!"

"Roger!  Will keep you posted!  Over!"

"Roger!  Over and out!"  Joe looked Arnold in the eye.  "Seems like your family's tryin' to take you back."

"I never thought I'd say this, but I honestly hope not.  Cheezits, this complicates things!" Arnold muttered. "They weren't supposed to come get me!"

None of the trio in the hall moved an inch, temporarily lost in their own thoughts and fears.

A few minutes later, the radio crackled again.  "Thompson!  Intruders have been captured and being taken to the office!  Return to your post!  Over!"

"Roger!" Joe responded using his improvised "soldier" voice.  Fortunately, the man on the other end didn't seem to notice that "Thompson" sounded a little different than normal. "Uh, sir?  Requesting information on intruders.  Over."

"One old lady, an old man, a short guy, a Vietnamese man, and four children.  Over."

The series of curses that flew into Arnold's head were highly imaginative and more than just a little obscene.  He bit his tongue to keep from speaking these curses aloud.

"Roger.  Over and out."

Maya stared at Arnold.  "Friends of yours?"

"My grandparents, Ernie, Mr. Hyunh, and a few of my friends from school.  Cheese and rice, this _really complicates things!"_

Arnold paced back and forth across the hallway, resisting the sudden urge to take out his frustration on the sniveling man on the floor.  It would've been so easy to just lash out in anger at one of the men who had caused him so much grief.  He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth, seething at the universe for dumping this situation into his lap.

Still, it was not in his nature to needlessly harm someone, and he was able to restrain himself from acting on his first impulse.

His mind ran through dozens of possibilities until he sighed and turned to face Joe and Maya.  "It looks like I have only one choice.  This escape attempt is now a rescue mission."  He looked up into Joe's eyes.  "Joe, you've been a big help to me, but I have to ask you to go no further.  What I'm going to do will most likely get anyone with me shot."

"I've come this far," Joe valiantly began, eyes turning to steel, "and I'm gonna go that much farther.  Besides, an old buzzard like me's gotta meet his end somehow.  If I haveta die, I want to die doin' what's right for my own grandchildren."

"And they won't shoot if I'm with you," Maya's timid voice whispered, shocking both Joe and Arnold.  Brown eyes, perhaps a bit less innocent than before, met the gaze of the two male Odds before her. "I have to know if Dad's really doing this.  And the only way I'm going to find out is by going with you."

Arnold gave pleading looks to his two friends and allies but sighed, giving in to their demands.  "Then I guess we'd better get moving.  I don't know how long my little webs of fear will hold, and I'd rather we meet your father without all his soldiers, Maya."


	15. The Beginning of the End

The Secret

By Cybra

**A/N:  I'm starting to write this right after I've finished writing Chapter 14.  Scary, yes?  Well, my writing mojo is kickin' into overdrive, and my muse is forcing me to work!**

**Disclaimer:  The Hey Arnold! characters featured here may not be mine, but all original characters _plus the situation they're all in are mine!  Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine!  P_**

Chapter 15: The Beginning of the End

With each passing second, the carefully controlled anger lurking in Arnold's heart and mind grew into a barely contained rage.  Those guards he had been unable to wrap "fear nets" around their minds he simply used brute force to mentally attack them, leaving the guards whimpering or sometimes screaming in terror.  His rage fueled his attacks as his personal resources began to deplete.  Each attack grew more horrifying to the victim…

…and for once in his life, Arnold didn't care about whether or not there would be any lasting effects.

These men were to be killing machines, slaughtering innocent non-Odds as well as those non-Odds that _had killed Odds in hate crimes.  But whether or not those non-Odds should be punished and how they should be punished was up the courts to decide, not McMillan._

And Arnold would make sure that McMillan would be unable to implement the insane plan he had been cooking up for years.

A war in which a minority was hoping to conquer the majority?  It was a ridiculous concept.  Though there was some merit to the idea.  After all, no one was truly safe from the power and wrath of a Level 5 Empath (as these guards were quickly discovering).  What better way to keep the masses in line than with pure terror that no one could escape?

Maya and Joe walked behind Arnold, being careful not to step on the fallen soldiers.

"Don't you think this is a little extreme, Arnold?" Maya whimpered, sheet white and looking as if she were ready to flee any moment.

"No," he answered curtly, focusing a fear blast on a fool who dared to run into his path from an adjacent hallway.

His friends and family had been captured, and he would not allow them to be harmed.

Arnold – grandson, friend, advisor, and Level 5 Empath – was on the warpath, and Heaven help whomever stood in his way.

There were entrances into every mind if you knew where to look for them, but Arnold had little patience for finesse at the moment.  Instead, he simply struck with sheer force, his rage happily providing more than enough energy to shatter the weak mental defenses of the guard before him.

The guard screamed, eyes wide with sheer terror.  Arnold could feel it, smell it, _taste it.  His senses – all on hyper alert from the adrenaline pulsing through his veins – breathed in the almost intoxicating fear.  He knew that this man would not be following them.  The three of them would continue unmolested until the next idiot decided to try to stand between him and McMillan._

Silently, Joe and Maya followed, in awe of what the Level 5 could do and also in fear of it.

~@~

_'We're going to die,' Stinky thought._

There was no doubt in the country boy's mind as he looked at he and his companions' captors.  Odds surrounded the group of four children and four adults, machine guns in their hands.

"Now what am I going to do with you people?" McMillan wondered, tapping a finger against his chin.

"Let us go?" Gerald suggested hopefully.

"Can't.  You've seen too much."  He gave a cruel grin.  "It's a pity, though.  You won't be around to see the new world that's in store."

Gertie snarled, "You're a sick, sick man, sir!"

**"Sick?!" McMillan roared, aiming a fancy revolver at the group. "I'll tell you what's sick!  Sick is killing innocent people simply because they look different!  Sick is killing people and then proudly proclaiming it in court as if you're some big war hero!  ****_That's sick!"_**

Phoebe cringed away, feeling a bit better when Ernie placed a reassuring hand on her back, reminding her that she wasn't alone to witness this tirade.

"And like what you're going to do is any better?!" Grandpa snapped. "You're going to be killing people who had nothing to do with any of that stuff!"

"Machiavelli said it himself: 'The ends justify the means'," was the cold response. "A wise man…for a non-Odd."

Suddenly, the doors to the room slammed open, revealing a small and seemingly delicate figure framed in the doorway, a taller figure and another figure about the same height as the first behind it.  It took a moment for all to recognize the first person.

As Arnold entered the room where they were held, Helga could practically feel the air vibrating about them. Green eyes scanned over them and locked onto the brown eyes of McMillan. His fists clenched as he glared. His jaw was set in a hard line.

Though having no Empathic ability of her own, Helga knew Arnold was engulfed by a volcanic rage. The display of temper he had given when they first discovered his ability would be nothing in comparison to this. In his eyes, she could see the power he wielded and the possibilities of what he could do with it.

Never before (and, she hoped, never again) had she seen something so beautiful and terrifying.

Four of the soldiers/guards ran towards Arnold, aiming to recapture him for their employer.

A glare from Arnold sent the four of them into unconsciousness.

The air radiated with rage around Arnold as he slowly walked towards them.  The remaining guards crumpled to the ground, a few unconscious and most curled up in tight balls, whimpering in fear.

Emerald green eyes blazed with inner fire as they once again focused on McMillan.  The owner of McMillan Industries simply focused his own brown eyes on the Empath before him.

The two Odds represented opposite ends of achieving the same goal: one offered a better living for Odds through kindness and the other offered a better living for Odds through force.  Never had such a thing happened before and who knew when it would happen again?

"Release them," the younger of the two glaring Odds ordered.

"No."

Green eyes narrowed even further.  "Don't make me hurt you."

There was power to back up that threat, Helga was sure of that.  If the guards were any indication, Arnold was quite able to make good on that statement.

"I doubt you could even if you truly wanted to," McMillan answered calmly. "You're reaching the end of your resources, I'm sure.  There's barely anything left other than what you use to maintain your shielding."

Arnold showed not one iota of emotion other than rage.  He gritted his teeth.  McMillan was right.  He _was reaching the end of his own power.  His rage had been giving him energy he needed to accomplish more than his fondest wishes, but it would not do so for much longer._

"Why risk it all on some foolish maneuver, McMillan?  If you fail, even if you had me completely on your side, you would lose everything.  Why risk it all?" Arnold asked coldly.

McMillan shook his head.  "It's a shame that you don't live amongst other Odds, then you'd know the answer to that question."

The blonde boy growled as he slowly walked forward, seemingly unworried by the gun McMillan held in his hand.  He crouched next to an unconscious soldier and relieved him of a handgun, cocking it.  Calmly, just as his grandfather had taught him on the practice ranges in case the skill was ever needed, Arnold pointed the gun at the man who had ordered his kidnapping.

Helga's blood froze.  _'He wouldn't!  He couldn't!'_

Arnold hissed, "I may not live among other Odds, but I have learned a few lessons about life.  Like if you come across a mad dog, you need to shoot it."  His eyes narrowed as he kept his aim steady.  "You haven't reached that stage yet.  Let them go, and I'll have them simply call the police to pick you up."

Maya stood behind the boy she admired.  As all of this happened, her heart and mind finally accepted the knowledge that Arnold had bestowed upon her:

Her father had been planning to use her and Arnold to maintain control.

Wrinkled, callused hands rested on her shoulders.  She turned her head to see Joe standing behind her, giving her a sorrowful look.

"I'm sorry," he mouthed.  He knew by the way she had suddenly stiffened that she had finally accepted the truth.

McMillan gave a barking laugh, spreading his arms wide for a moment.  "Shoot me, then!" he dared. "Kill me!  But I warn you that if you kill me, it'll be a hollow victory."  He grinned maliciously.  "There will always be another person like me: someone who will do anything to achieve his goal.  Your secret will be all over the place.  These people will seek you out and aim to catch you and use you."

Arnold ground his teeth together and gripped the gun a little harder.

The CEO continued speaking, reveling in the obvious pain he was causing the boy.  "And one day you _will be caught, Arnold James Mackintosh Qwilleran.  That person won't simply try to bend your will to obey to his.  No, he'll simply break your will and your spirit.  And when that happens, know that I shall be laughing from my place in Heaven or Hell!"_

_'It's almost like a scene out of a play,' Phoebe noted, her mind in numb shock. __'Only in this play, there are no stage effects, only reality.'  She shivered.  __'If Arnold or McMillan pulls the trigger, someone's really__ going to get shot.'_

Arnold said nothing to the CEO, which seemed to encourage the head of McMillan Industries to continue on.  "Why put everything on the line, Arnold?  It's simply in our nature as Odds to do so!  We Odds are all or nothing.  If we don't risk everything on the roll of the dice, it's not a bet.  Every bet we make, every risk we take, must involve the added risk of losing everything.  In fact, we Odds are the greatest gamblers that ever roamed this planet!"

No one needed to remind anyone else that at the moment Arnold and McMillan had placed not only their lives on the line but the lives of practically everyone in the world on this risk.  If one or the other made a mistake, the game would be over…

…and, for the sake of the people who did not even know the game had been going on, Arnold had better be the victor.

Arnold lowered the gun in his hand.  "You're absolutely right…"

McMillan smirked.

"There _will always be another Sean McMillan…"_

McMillan stopped smirking and his eyes widened in horror.

Arnold had raised his gun hand back up and had aimed it at his right temple.

"But there's only one Arnold James Mackintosh Qwilleran."


	16. Odd Down

The Secret

By Cybra

**A/N:**  I know, I know.  "Where the devil have you been, Cybra?!"  I had to put this story on hiatus for two main reasons.  One being school.  Evil AP Chemistry conspires to take writing time away from me.  Once I get all the homework and stuff done, I'm too worn out to do much else.  (And for those of you hoping to join Righters' Revolution and have sent e-mails and stuff, sorry!)  The other reason is that these last two chapters are _critical_ and need to be as close to _perfect_ as humanly possible, so I've been playing with it for a while.  Anyway, I hope this turns out okay.

**Special Note:**  To those of you who reviewed for Chapter 14, my most sincere apologies for not answering your reviews if you had questions, etc.  I was so excited about the next part that I posted it up before I answered reviews.

**Angelfire –** It's people like you who make me feel guilty for not typing out the next part right away.  Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**JESS – **No, that wasn't the end.  The end of it is next chapter.  I have a few ideas for a sequel, but nothing that I'm really pleased with.  But I have lots and _lots of _other_ story ideas!_

**scarred15683 – **Not quite what you hoped for, I'm afraid, but I hope you like it anyway!

**Dru – **I'm really not that mean!  Honest!  But as far as killing our beloved Arnold, wait and see.

**Almaseti – **Stop!  I'm blushing!  ^^  Coming from you, that's a really big compliment!  Thanks!

**Paradoxal Reality – **Wow.  You know, you're right.  He _did_ become what he despised for a moment.  Hmm…maybe I should throw that in next chapter…hmm…And, yes, Maya has a very big part.  Not this chapter, but the next chapter.  Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:**  Hey Arnold! belongs to the almighty, powerful, wonderful, handsome, etc., Craig Barlett.  Worship him, peons!

Chapter 16: Odd Down 

There are moments in life when everything is so real, that it's positively surreal.  When every sight, every scent, every sound is so sharp and clear that it must be a figment of the imagination.

One of those moments was now.

For years afterward, Helga could describe in vivid detail the way the light of the overhead fluorescent bulbs played across the features of her beloved and the weapon he held to his temple.  She could tell exactly how many breaths she took in those several minutes of horrified silence.  She could even describe the exact way Arnold's muscles tensed as he remained firm in his resolve to shoot himself if the need arose.

And she knew he would do exactly that if he thought he needed to.

She knew better than anyone that he would push the envelope as much as he needed to in order to save someone.  During the whole experience with Scheck, he had pressed on without fear for his own safety.  As she only now began to realize, he had signed off his life as forfeit at any time.  His life didn't matter if someone was in trouble.

Right now the lives of millions of unknown people were in trouble, people Arnold would never know and who would never know him.  They may not ever know the sacrifice he might have to make for their sakes.

Finally, McMillan broke the silence.  "You wouldn't dare."

That surprised a laugh out of Arnold that resembled the bark of a mad dog.  "I wouldn't, would I?  Are you sure about that?"

"Why would you risk everything on a gamble like this?  I mean, the odds of the police showing up during this stalemate are extremely slim.  And I'm not going to let my hostages go any time soon."

"Why would I risk everything on something like this?  McMillan, you told me that yourself."  A slow smile crept across Arnold's face, a smile that wasn't at all pleasant.  "We Odds are all or nothing.  If we don't risk everything on the roll of the dice, it's not a bet.  Every bet we make, every risk we take, must involve the added risk of losing everything."  Arnold's smile twisted into a slight sneer.  "In fact, we Odds are the greatest gamblers that ever roamed this planet."

McMillan sucked in a breath between his teeth.  His words.  His exact words thrown right back at him.

"I follow that assessment very well, McMillan.  I always have.  I just always thought it was just me.  Games of chance just weren't that thrilling to me unless I had more at stake than just some spare change."  A look that could freeze magma glared at the older Odd.  "And believe me, I am more than willing to make this little bet."

"And your friends and family?  Are you willing to risk _them?"_

"You wouldn't dare hurt them," coldly responded the boy, "because if you so much as nick one of them I'll shoot myself before you can stop me.  And don't even think about trying to rush me.  I'd still be able to pull the trigger first."

The CEO of McMillan Industries growled in frustration and anger.  The boy was in control of the situation.  He couldn't risk losing the Level 5 Empath now.  He stood on the edge of victory.  One misstep, and his plans would be over.

He looked over towards his beloved daughter.  So much like her mother who had been taken from the both of them.  Didn't this boy understand that he was doing this for their people?  Members of the Odd race had been slaughtered by the hundreds in the past, all of them needless deaths.  Couldn't Arnold see that he would use the boy's gift to build a better world for their people so that other children wouldn't have to go without their parents simply because some non-Odd didn't like their head shape?

"Put your gun down, McMillan," Arnold softly ordered, "and then I shall do the same with mine.  Killing my family and friends or anyone else won't bring your wife back."

McMillan kept his weapon steady for a few more moments before he lowered it.  Gazing down at the floor but keeping an eye on Arnold out of the corner of his eye, the CEO waited.  As soon as Arnold lowered his own weapon, he raised his arm and aimed the fancy revolver at the girl with the black hair and the glasses.

Completely terrified, Phoebe didn't even scream.  All her mind registered was that in a few brief instants, her life was about to end.

Helga opened her mouth in a wordless scream before she finally screeched, **"Phoebe!"**

Not her best friend!  If there was a God, save her best friend!

Phoebe gazed into the grief-and-hate-crazed eyes of McMillan.  He would feel no remorse for shooting her once he did it.  She could already see the beginnings of a cruel smile on his lips.  His finger began to pull back on the trigger.

**"Phoebe!" Arnold's voice shouted from what felt like nowhere.**

Arnold gritted his teeth as he focused the last of his energy.  One fear blast.  That was all he needed.  If he scared McMillan into unconsciousness, nobody else would get hurt.

But he was too tired to generate the fear himself, too exhausted to strike the man's mind to stir up the emotion within him.  However, he did have a different way of going about terrifying the older Odd.

_'Emotions are like energy,'_ he silently reminded himself. _'They can't be created or destroyed, just converted from one form to another or channeled.'_

And right now, there was plenty of fear to channel.

Later, nobody could quite describe the feeling in their minds though most of them likened the feeling to a hand reaching out and forcefully grabbing their fear.  Then, that hand _pulled on their fear, ripping it free from their heads and temporarily robbing them of all emotions.  After a brief moment of numbness, their fear returned to a lesser degree along with shock._

Maya's eyes widened as she clamped down on her mental shielding.  This had the potential of hurting.  Badly.

Almost as if he were cracking a whip, the Level 5 Empath flung the hastily gathered fear at his enemy.  He felt his own mental shielding beginning to shudder and fail.  This was most definitely going to hurt.

McMillan prepared himself to pull the trigger when a sudden blast of complete and utter terror swept over him.  His eyes widened with horror as he dropped the gun, not noticing the weapon's discharge that came within six inches of hitting his intended target.  Instead, he stared into nothingness as if staring into the very darkest pits of Hell.

At that moment, the backlash hit.  Mental shielding shattered, but it was the Level 5's not the Level 1's.  She had enough energy in her reserves to hold back the tidal wave of fear, but Arnold no longer had his reserves.  Like a dam built of sticks, his shields blew apart, leaving his extremely sensitive mind open to the terror.

The Level 5's face mirrored that of his former captor's.  A shared burning pain filled their chests as the terror continued to hold them, making them unable to move.  Completely in sync, their eyes dilated then constricted.  Their mouths opened up in silent screams.

Phil grabbed his wife as she screamed their grandson's name, ready to run to him.  He squeezed his eyes shut as tears tried to force their way out of the aged orbs.  There was nothing the pair could do but stand, and hope, and pray.

Ernie and Mr. Hyunh gaped silently, horrified at the scene before them.  They had never dreamed that something like this could happen even in their worst nightmares.  They, too, worried for the youngest member of their extended family, but both were beginning to get the feeling that this would not end well.

At the same time, Arnold's friends stared in morbid fascination.  The football-headed boy had just placed his life and (most likely) his very sanity on the line.  If he survived this, what would be the lasting effects?

"Hang on, Arnold," Helga pleaded in a low whisper. "Please…"

Phoebe felt a great load of guilt settle on her shoulders.  Her friend had done this to save her life.  If McMillan hadn't aimed for her, would Arnold have been forced to perform such a dangerous feat?  She also pleaded for Arnold's life but not with words for she didn't know what to say.  Instead, she pleaded with her very soul.

The burning sensation in two chests ended in a painful explosion as a heart exploded.  Two pairs of eyes rolled back in two football-shaped heads.  Two pairs of legs buckled beneath their respective owners as two bodies fell to the floor.

One body fell to the floor dead, the other unconscious.


	17. Lost Innocence and the Jade Heart

The Secret

By Cybra

**A/N:**  Well, folks.  We have reached the end of our journey.  Here's where the actors line up and take their bows.  If I can think up a _plausible sequel, I _might_ be tempted to write one.  Anyway, enjoy the final chapter of "The Secret"!_

**AngelsDaughter – **Hello again!  Me?  Write a book on this story?  Hmm…Tempting…Very tempting, but no.  I have a few other ideas.  ^^

**BrianaLFBH – **I _intended to leave you guessing on whether or not it would end well.  Bwahaha.  Evil me._

**Paradoxal Reality – **Flatterer.  Flattery will get you everywhere.  I'm almost tempted to write a fic for you!  ^.-  And your stories are pretty cool!  I also want to thank you for all your insightful reviews!  You always seem to notice stuff that I don't.

**Angelfire – **Me thinks you should cut back on diabolical laughter.  ^^

**Arielle – **Three…hours…?  O.O!!!  Wow!  I'm flattered!

**HazelIris – **:::Girly scream.  Flees from reviewer with torch and pitchfork.:::

**Miss Matched – **Heh.  I liked how you tacked on your review to the ending of the previous chapter.  ^.-  And please don't cry!

**Disclaimer:**  As I've said in previous chapters, Arnold and the gang aren't mine.  All original characters are.  There.  I've said it.  Moving on…

Chapter 17: Lost Innocence and the Jade Heart 

A pair of eyes opened slowly, painfully.  Though most would have thought the white brilliance surrounding them was the clouds of Heaven, the former sleeper wasn't fooled.  In his opinion, he had done enough in the past few days alone to warrant a free trip to Hell.

"Arnold!" Helga's voice called from somewhere to his right.

Blinking slowly, the blond boy turned his football-shaped head to see his friends and extended family seated on the floors and in the chairs of the hospital room/suite he had been placed in.  His grandparents rushed to his side, tears flowing from their eyes as relief flooded their souls.

The elderly couple could remember every detail of the horrible sight of their grandson's eyes rolling back in his head and him collapsing to the ground.  He had been so still that if it hadn't been for the very slight rise and fall of his chest and the weak beat of his heart, they would have thought him dead.

"You're all right!" Phil cried, hugging his wife and grandson close to him as if letting go would mean losing them forever.

Arnold gave a weak smile that quickly faded.  He turned his gaze out the window as he remembered the entire experience: discovery, betrayal, kidnapping, attempted escape, attempted rescue, and…"McMillan is dead."

The entire group froze.  No one had dared discuss that little aspect of the whole ordeal even outside of Arnold's room.  The former CEO of McMillan Enterprises had died when his already weak heart burst due to complete terror.

"McMillan is dead," Arnold repeated to himself, "and I killed him."

His grandfather hesitated before rubbing his grandson's back, trying and knowing he was failing to reassure Arnold.  "The police know the whole thing, Short Man.  We had to tell them everything, so everyone's going to know about Empaths soon enough.  The police are calling it self-defense."  He hesitated before he asked, "How did you know?"

Placing a hand over his heart where a phantom ache still lingered, the boy answered, "I felt him die.  I felt his heart explode as if it were mine.  I felt his life slip away even as I fell unconscious.  And self-defense or not, I still killed him."

Silence passed over the group until Arnold requested in a tiny voice, "May I please be alone?"

Reluctantly, the worried grandparents released their grandson, silently ushering the others out of the room.  As soon as the door was closed, they leaned against it, listening for the silent sound of tears flowing out of Arnold's eyes.

In the silence and stillness of the hospital room, Arnold placed his head in his hands and silently wept.  He shed the tears he could never cry in front of anyone for he wept not only for McMillan who had let himself fall prey to his own grief-induced madness, not only for Maya who had lost not only her mother but also her father, but also for himself.  Invisible blood stained his hands now; blood that no matter how long and hard he scrubbed would still remain.

_'In order to stop a monster, I had to become a monster,'_ some part of Arnold's pain-filled mind realized. _'For a few minutes, I became what I fought.  And the worst part is that it was the only way to win.'_

And so here he sat, head bowed as the sun set through his window, silent tears flowing in endless rivers from his eyes, knowing that his life could never be the same.

~@~

Maya stood facing the private jet, her companion as silent as she was.  Neither had anything they could really say at the moment.  There was too much to say and not enough to say.

Finally, she spoke, "My uncle is going to be taking over my dad's company soon since Dad willed the position to me and I'm too young to take over McMillan Enterprises."  She paused.  "There are going to be a lot of changes."

"I'm glad to hear that, Maya," a smooth tenor voice, once completely easy-going but now laced with care, answered. "I'm sure you and your uncle can make your father's company better than it was.  He'd be proud of you."

"I'd like to think so."  She paused again before she turned to face him.  "Why did he go so far, Arnold?  Why would he risk civil war?"

This time it was Arnold who paused, carefully considering his answer.  "Have you ever heard the phrase 'The road to Hell is paved with good intentions'?"  At her nod, he continued, "That happened to your father.  I suspect that before he even _met_ your mother, he wanted to improve the quality of Odd life.  After your mother's death, his views on reality and his own dream began to twist and distort.  In time, all his original dreams became what we almost saw come to life."

The brown-haired girl looked down at the ground.  "What's going to happen to you?"

"I should be the one _you asking that question."_

"I asked first."

He sighed, muttering something about "tricky Odd females," actually forcing a giggle past Maya's lips.

"Believe me, the males are just as tricky.  _And_ stubborn to boot."  Her features turned grave, aging her face several years before its time.  "But if you must know, I'm moving out to Colorado with my uncle.  He's going to set up the new McMillan Enterprises Headquarters there.  Since we're starting over, he wanted to get it started on the right foot."

"And the workers here?"

"They'll still work here if they wish.  This _is_ still McMillan Enterprises Headquarters.  Besides, my uncle's going to turn that place into the headquarters for this part of the country.  You know, spread out the authority a bit.  Make the different sections of the company mostly self-sufficient but still under a main branch's control."

"Clever."

The pair of young Odds watched workers loaded luggage onto the plane.  In the week they had known each other, many things had changed.  Even their own personalities had been forced to undergo changes.  Arnold himself had been hounded by the press for details on Empaths and his Empathic ability.  If it hadn't been for Dr. Bliss' offer to give the reporters what they wanted, they might not have left him alone for a long, long time.

"So what's going to happen to you?" Maya finally asked again.

"I'm going back to school, catch up on what I missed, and try not to scare anyone out of their wits simply because I have the ability to kill people with a thought."

"It wasn't your fault," she cut in. "You didn't know he had a weak heart."

"It's still no excuse.  I have the feeling that with enough fear, _anyone can die of fright.  We Empaths manipulate emotions, so technically we _can_ kill without laying a finger on someone."  He paused.  "Or at least, __I can."_

At this grim thought, the two fell silent once more.  Neither one of them was the child they had once been.  Both had come far closer to adulthood than kids their age should have.

"Before I leave, I want to give you something."  She reached into her pocket and pulled out a box.  "I know guys don't normally wear jewelry, but I thought you might like it."

Opening the box, Arnold saw a jade heart attached to a gold chain.  He glanced at her.

"I bought it originally because of the color and I thought we might become something more."  She stated this simply, not in the least bit embarrassed.  "But times have changed.  That heart has a new meaning now.  And my feelings have changed.  I realize that I built a fantasy of you that I fell in love with.  The _real Arnold is someone who's just as wonderful but not what I expected, and I love __him like a brother."_

"And I think of you as a sister, Maya.  I'll miss you."

"And I you."

Joe waved to her from the plane.  He had already said his good-byes to the blond boy and would be going with Maya to her new home.

Gazing deeply into his once brilliant emerald but now pale jade eyes, she raised her hand in a farewell so ancient that it had been engraved in the very souls of the Odds.  Never taught even to younger generations, it was known – like all Odd traditions – as if by instinct.  Not a single non-Odd knew this farewell, and no Odd was willing to reveal _any of their archaic traditions to a non-Odd.  "Farewell, Heartbrother."_

He responded in kind.  "Farewell, Heartsister."

She did not look back once.  She would have no regrets meeting the boy who had turned her life around though she would sorely miss him.

~@~

Rhonda and Nadine chattered with a pair of girl Odds on the steps of PS 118.  A month had passed since the incident, and things had started to return to normal.  Some Odd children even transferred to the school, bringing the Odd count up from one to six.  And five of those Odds were busy talking with friends on the steps of the school.

"And then she said – "  The cheerful redheaded Odd froze in mid-sentence, her face turning grave and respectful.

The other Odds also fell silent and still, their respectful attention riveted on something else now.  Rhonda, Nadine, and the other non-Odd children looked around anxiously, wondering what had struck them silent.

Arnold stepped quietly off the bus, his feet making no sound as they hit the pavement.  Five pairs of eyes watched his every movement with utmost reverence.  On his head rested his little blue hat.  Around his neck lay the jade heart.

Arnold had changed during that time.  His smiles became few.  When he did smile, they were cautious as if he were afraid if he let himself be content, the universe would strike down whatever had pleased him.  Though the reporters mainly backed off now, some still pursued him, constantly reminding him of what he had had to do and forcing those rare smiles to retreat.

He still offered advice to others though he now offered services only an Empath could provide in addition to that advice.  Deftly twisting emotions to ease others' pain or help alleviate fear as he soothed them with his words allowed him to help more people than ever before.  It took some trusting on the "client's" part in order to let the Level 5 mold their very emotions into something he could work with, but after the first five minutes or so, the person he helped usually relaxed enough for him to work without fighting against that person's distress.

But he knew he held a double-edged sword, an easily abused power that no one could block except another Empath.  Cautious about how to use his abilities, he created a very strict set of morals and guidelines for himself.  If Arnold could do anything about it, he would not do anything to abuse his power.

Yet not everyone saw things his way.  Other people claiming to hold Empathic ability had stepped forward and been revealed as frauds when Arnold had seen right through their lies, but Arnold had promised Dr. Bliss that he would help train any other _true_ Empaths that sought either him or her out.

The Odds followed Arnold with their gaze as he walked up the steps and into the school.  Even if most non-Odds would never know it, _they knew he had saved their lives.  How this information spread among the Odds, only the Odds knew and their lips were sealed.  In any case, Arnold was someone to be highly respected and revered._

When the redhead and her brunette friend turned back to Nadine and Rhonda, the rich girl asked, "Why'd you all do that?"

"Because Arnold saved us," the brunette answered simply. _"All_ of us.  Therefore, he is the most respected Odd alive."

"He gave up so much, Rhonda," the redhead explained, "and now he has to live with any regrets about how he acted and what he lost.  Like gypsies, there are no children among the Odds, just people waiting to be tainted.  Arnold is now one of those many tainted, and the least we can do is honor him for his sacrifice."


End file.
